


A Safe Haven

by HixyStix



Series: Yavin and Beyond [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial happens in abundance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family, Friends With Benefits, Idiots in Love, Lasat courting quirks, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Was Canon Compliant When Written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 146,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: After Atollon, the fleet – or what was left of it – arrives at Yavin IV in the middle of its night cycle.Zeb is missing half his family, stuck learning a new base with new ways of doing things, and wondering why Kallus is avoiding him.Kallus finds himself simultaneously lauded and hated, trying to keep his head down and get a certain lasat out of his thoughts so he can do his job properly.A fic covering Zeb and Kallus's time on Yavin IV.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Series: Yavin and Beyond [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056209
Comments: 666
Kudos: 653
Collections: The Gay Awakens





	1. Chapter 1

The fleet – or what was left of it – arrived at Yavin IV in the middle of its night cycle. In the dark, countless Rebels flooded off ships and transports and into the waiting arms of the Massassi Group’s Logistics staff. All across the base, people were accounted for and assigned rooms, or they were marked MIA/KIA and had their rooms reassigned.

Zeb didn’t have to worry about where he would sleep; the _Ghost_ always provided a safe haven for the Spectres.

However, his bunk was currently occupied by a particular former spy. It was possible Kallus was hiding in there, as he hadn’t emerged with the rest of the passengers, but it was equally possible he was simply sleeping off interrogation drugs.

Zeb opened his cabin door to find Kallus lying with his back to the wall, wide-eyed and awake.

“Hey, Kal,” Zeb said, trying to be amiable. “We’ve landed and you can see a real medic now, not just me.”

Kallus didn’t react to the nickname this time, neither with amusement nor disgust as he had when Zeb first used it trying to talk Kallus into accepting medical attention.

Zeb sat on the bed next to him and offered his hand. “C’mon, Kal, don’t make me carry you out of here. I don’t wanna, but I’ll do it.”

A shaking hand was placed in Zeb’s.

“Can you walk?” Zeb asked.

“I don’t know,” Kallus confessed.

_At least he spoke._

“Well, let’s see.” Zeb helped him stand – a bit wobbly, but not bad; he could lean on Zeb and hobble out under his own power.

When they made it to the _Ghost_ ’s ramp, Zeb was shocked to see a group waiting for them: a medic with a bed and a general, by his rank tab.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Kallus slumped against Zeb. “They think I’m still a spy,” he said weakly.

“It’s a precautionary measure,” said the general. “Just for a few days to be sure you haven’t led Thrawn straight to us.”

“Thrawn tortured him!” Zeb protested. “What makes you think he’d tell Thrawn anything?”

“We can’t take the _chance_ he told Thrawn anything, willingly or not.” The general looked at Kallus, who nodded.

“It’s okay, Zeb,” he said, sounding defeated. “I’ll be fine. They’ll treat me fairly, just like you promised.”

Zeb _had_ promised that, back on Bahryn, but that was when he knew everyone in Phoenix Cell. He didn’t know this general. He didn’t know Massassi Group. He didn’t know that he trusted them with Kallus. “I’m coming with him,” he insisted.

The general shook his head. “No, you won’t. You’ll be staying here.”

That was the moment Zeb realized _they_ were under suspicion, too, for bringing Kallus to Yavin IV.

He wanted to growl, to argue, to do _something_ , but Kallus patted his arm and said, “Stay here, Zeb.”

Kallus hobbled forward and let the medic help him onto the bed. He was immediately wheeled off, but the general stayed, looking past Zeb into the _Ghost_.

“General Draven,” said Hera, walking down to stand with Zeb. “I don’t appreciate you treating my crew like this, nor our informant. Fulcrum was very valuable to us and the least we could do was pick up his escape pod.”

Draven nodded once, sharply. “That’s well enough, Captain Syndulla, but this base’s security must come first.”

Zeb scowled.

“I will talk to you all in the morning,” Draven said. “I suggest you get sleep.”

As the general turned and walked off, Hera put a hand on Zeb’s shoulder. “You didn’t lie,” she said. “They will treat him fairly.”

“They’d better,” Zeb grumbled. “Or I’m going to have some _words_ with some generals.”

Kallus fought the injection he was given on the way to the medbay, but it was pointless; he felt a prickly sensation and fell unconscious.

He woke to find himself still in a medbay bed, handcuffed to both sides. He jerked, testing the strength of the binders. He could easily escape from them, just as he had on the _Chimaera_ , but he knew that if he wanted the Rebels to accept him, he had to play their games.

Unable to do anything else, he tried to take stock of his own position. His Imperial clothing had been taken and he was left in a medical gown, legs tucked under a blanket. Small, raised red lines covered his arms and hands; a sure sign of Imperial torture. 

In this particular case, Kallus had served as Pryce’s plaything while Thrawn watched. He was familiar with the burn pattern – the lines would also cover his torso and legs, anywhere Pryce had focused attention on. 

He knew that because he’d been on Pryce’s side of things before, watching the electricity run over prisoners’ skin.

 _I’ve been there **too** many times before_, he reflected bitterly. _I deserved to be there myself._

“Hey, you’re awake,” said a pleasant voice off to Kallus’s left.

He turned his head and realized he was in a long line of filled beds. In the one next to his was a young, dark-haired boy – he didn’t look a day older than fifteen. The boy lay there, either asleep or unconscious, multiple limbs bound up in bacta casts.

Sitting between the two beds was a young woman with long brown hair. She had her arms crossed and was watching Kallus.

“I’ll get a medic,” she said with a smile. “They asked me to watch out for you, too.”

True to her word, the woman flagged down a medic; the next thing Kallus knew, he was getting a full health report.

They’d given him something to counteract the _skirtopanol_ interrogation drug cocktail and flush it from his system – that’s what had put him to sleep the night before – and something for the pain. He had two cracked ribs and one cracked kneecap that would take a while to heal. Various cuts and bruises from the physical torture had been sewn up and treated with bacta, as appropriate.

Kallus was surprised at the efficiency of the Rebel medics. He’d never imagined the Rebels could have anything this well-organized right under the nose of the Empire, but there he was, in a pyramid, receiving the same level of treatment he’d expect from the Empire, but with a much more pleasant bedside manner.

The medic left, promising to send food shortly to soothe Kallus’s rumbling stomach.

The woman scooted her chair to face Kallus. “I’m Jaci,” she said. “I’m one of the mechanics here.”

“Kallus,” he introduced himself cautiously.

“You’re Fulcrum,” Jaci said. She didn’t appear shocked by that information.

“I was,” he confirmed, then did the same rundown of his life he’d done in Zeb’s bunk and came to the same conclusion. “I’m not anything anymore.”

“You’re here, so that makes you a Rebel now, right?” she asked.

Kallus jiggled the binders on his wrists. “I’m not so sure the leadership would agree with you.”

Jaci actually laughed at that. “We get all sorts of defectors,” she said. “Why not you, too?”

Obviously, this woman didn’t know anything about Kallus’s history besides his status as a spy. It was somewhat refreshing to meet someone without a negative preconceived notion.

Kallus gestured as best he could to the sleeping boy in the next bed over. “Who’s he?”

“This idiot?” Jaci set a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “My little cousin Maks. He’s a pilot and got shot up at Atollon. Had to go EV and everything.”

Wincing at the thought of such a young man flying a fighter, Kallus asked, “Who let him fly? He looks too young.” He frowned at Jaci. “You look too young to be here, as well.”

She laughed. “Oh, Maks is eighteen and I’m twenty-one. Our family always looks a lot younger than we are.” She smiled tenuously, betraying nerves for the first time. “Just got to get him to wake up now.”

“I’m sure he will,” Kallus said, hoping he sounded sincere and not cold, like he was still an ISB Agent.

“Yeah,” she said, putting on a brave mask again. “Any minute now, they said.”

As if on cue, her cousin started to move, shifting his head back and forth, getting her full attention. Kallus watched as the boy slowly woke up, blinking.

“Jace?” the boy said, looking like he was barely focusing.

“Maks! You’re back on Yavin IV, you’re okay. Do you hurt anywhere? They put you in bacta on the ship and then you’ve got casts for your broken bones, but if you need pain meds…?” Jaci spoke earnestly and quickly.

“Think I’m good,” Maks said slowly, looking at both his arms in casts, as well as one leg.

“Good.” Jaci smacked him hard in the shoulder. “What the kriff did you do all this for?”

“Ouch! _They_ shot _me_!” Maks looked scandalized.

Jaci was having none of it. “And what’re your parents going to say if I go home without you when this is all over? They’ll blame me, even though joining the Rebellion was all your idea.”

Kallus was a little impressed at her optimistic belief they’d all live through the war. He harbored no such illusions. He hadn’t left the Empire because the Rebellion would win, but because it was _right_.

Then again, the Rebellion had survived Thrawn’s attack of overwhelming force. Perhaps there was something to this movement, after all.

An attendant brought Kallus a simple sandwich with the plainest of toppings. It wasn’t much, probably the same quality as a cheap Coruscanti diner, but Kallus hadn’t seen food – real, actual, non-synthesized _food_ – since becoming Fulcrum. He used to be able to sneak down to Lothal in the early morning hours and have his pick of the market’s first fruits, but after turning to spying, he’d changed his habits to be less noticeable.

It took some maneuvering, but if Kallus sat the bed up, he was able to move enough to feed himself. Both the attendant and Jaci had offered help, but he was determined not to stoop to that unless necessary.

That first meal set the tone for the rest of his stay in the medbay. He was confined to his bed, making it difficult to care for himself, but he managed most of it by himself; whatever he couldn’t reach with his arms bound, either an attendant or Jaci helped him with.

Kallus wondered where Zeb had gotten to or if he’d completely misread things. He knew he couldn’t really call the lasat a _friend_ , but Zeb had been kind to him on the _Ghost_. Perhaps that was just the lasat’s nature. Perhaps it didn’t really mean anything.

Trying to make the best of it, Kallus talked to Maks during the long days and Jaci when she came to sit with Maks after her shifts. Rather, they talked and he listened; there wasn’t much about himself he felt comfortable opening up about. He confirmed the few things the two Rebels had known – that he was a high-level defector, that he’d come from Thrawn’s fleet, and that he’d been Fulcrum for over a year – but declined to offer up much else.

Maks noticed his reticence and, one evening after Jaci left, pointed out to Kallus that there were a lot of former Imperials on base and people generally didn’t ask questions about anyone’s past. “After all,” the kid said, “I don’t wanna know if my wingman now shot down my last wingman. What matters is that they’re here now.”

Kallus nodded, but he doubted he’d get a pass like a pilot defector would: he hadn’t merely followed orders; he’d _given_ them.

Day three began just like the others: a simple breakfast followed by medics checking the rate of healing on his ribs and kneecap. The surprise came when a Security agent came and undid his binders not long after.

“I can go?” he asked.

“No,” said the rodian. “Wait here for Intelligence and Logistics. Do I need to stay to make sure you do?”

Rubbing his raw wrists, Kallus shook his head. 

The agent looked at the astromech accompanying him. “You stay and alert me if he gets up,” the rodian instructed.

The astromech tootled. Kallus nodded at it. “May I at least change back into my clothes?

The rodian shrugged. “Talk with an attendant. They’ll be the ones that have them.”

Kallus could do that. “Thank you,” he said, hoping he was staying on the right side of the right people.

The rodian mumbled under his breath, but nodded. “Stay here.”

Kallus watched the Security agent go with some relief. He had use of his arms back. He would get clothes back. Surely those were good signs.

Maybe he’d even see Zeb again once he was allowed out of the medbay.

Despite Hera’s protestations, she, Rex, and Zeb were sequestered in the _Ghost_ for three days; long enough for a maintenance crew to crawl over the ship from fore to aft, looking for hidden tracking devices Kallus might have installed.

Of course, there were none.

Zeb could have told them that much – in fact, he _had_ , but no one listened to him.

Once it became clear Kallus hadn’t led Thrawn to Yavin IV, they were finally allowed to leave the ship.

Hera was pulled straight into a leadership meeting, but Zeb went in search of Kallus. What had happened to him the last three days?

Kallus was lying in a bed in the medbay, looking well-rested but still rough. Most of his visible injuries were gone, except that purple shiner, but there was a weariness in his eyes that Zeb hated to see.

There were also red rings around his wrists, the mark of binders.

Zeb tried to ignore all that. “Kal! You okay?” he asked.

Kallus raised the bed to a seated position. “I’m fine, Zeb,” he said, sounding somewhat relieved.

Zeb sniffed. “They take care of you here?”

Kallus nodded. “I think I’ll be able to walk out of here soon, if they let me.”

If they let him? Zeb didn’t like how that sounded. “They cleared us, so I’m sure they’ve cleared you.” He grabbed a chair and hunkered down. “You really okay?”

Kallus’s smile was obviously forced. “Better than I was with Thrawn,” he said. “Better than I was before Bahryn.”

Zeb frowned. This was not the same Kallus he’d help limp through the _Ghost_ three nights before. This was Bahryn Kallus, hanging on to his Imperial dignity by a thread.

He wanted that first Kallus back. That Kallus had talked, probably spurred on by the drugs, had clung to him and accepted his help. That Kallus had seemed like a person, not a droid.

“You’re not there anymore. No more Thrawn,” Zeb reminded him. He looked around. “Who do I talk to about getting you out of here?”

“You don’t,” Kallus said. “I was told to wait here until I talk to both Intelligence and Logistics.”

Zeb crossed his arms. “Well, I’ll wait with you.”

Kallus shook his head. “No. I’m sure you have somewhere to be or something to be doing.”

“You’d think,” Zeb said. “But I’ve been stuck on the _Ghost_ for three days. Everything that needed doing has been done. I don’t have a new job here yet, so I’m free.”

He tried to gauge Kallus’s reaction, to see if the man really wanted him to leave, but Kallus nodded.

“If you’re sure,” he said slowly. “Then I would appreciate the company.”

“I’m sure.” Zeb leaned back in his chair, surveying the medbay.

“They suspected you, too?” Kallus asked quietly. “I apologize for the trouble.”

Zeb waved off his concerns. “Not your fault. That general is just a suspicious _vo’arik_.” Looking back at Kallus, he asked, “You have anything to do while you’ve been here or have they kept you sedated?”

The edges of Kallus’s mouth twitched up, the slightest of smiles crossing his face. “I had a bed neighbor, a pilot. Talked a lot with him and his cousin.”

A feeling of discontent rose up in Zeb. At first, he wasn’t sure why, but he figured it out. “Huh. You’ve spent more time with them than with me.”

“Didn’t last,” Kallus said, as if he didn’t notice Zeb’s irritation – and maybe he didn’t. “They left this morning when he could walk again. You’re the only one who’d bother to seek me out.”

Zeb realized he was right. When it came to Kallus, Zeb might be his only friend on the moon.

“And to be honest, I’m not even sure why you’re here,” Kallus said. “I thought we were through after Bahryn. If not then, then certainly after I led Thrawn to Atollon.”

Zeb hmphed. “You were Fulcrum. That changed a lot.”

Kallus looked away. “Possibly not enough.”

Zeb couldn’t help himself. He reached out and placed a hand on Kallus’s arm. “It was more than enough,” he said. “To m– Phoenix Cell, if no one else.”

Before he could respond, Kallus looked past Zeb and his expression soured. Zeb turned to see General Draven walk in with a gotal colonel he didn’t know.

“Agent Kallus,” Draven said, speaking to Kallus as if Zeb wasn’t there. “I’ve been told you’re cleared to leave the medbay. Let’s go to my office.” He glanced at Zeb. “Alone.”

Zeb came very close to flashing his fangs at Draven. He didn’t, but his ears lay flat in anger anyway. “Let me help you up,” he offered.

Kallus waved him off. “I need to do this on my own,” he said, scooting to the edge of the bed and swinging his legs over the side.

One of his legs was stuck out straight. Zeb frowned; should Kallus be walking yet if he was in a cast? “Let me get you a cane or something,” he begged.

Kallus shook his head firmly. “I can walk,” he insisted, quietly so only Zeb could hear. “It’s just a knee brace.” 

Scooting back, Zeb gave Kallus room to walk. His leg was stiff, reminding Zeb of Bahryn yet again, but he stood straight and proud.

If Kallus was walking to imprisonment, Zeb thought, at least he was doing it on his own terms.

“Captain Orrelios,” the colonel said, getting Zeb’s attention. “You’ve been requested in the command center.”

 _Getting rid of me so I don’t make a fuss, aren’t they? They underestimate my willingness to cause trouble._ He imagined Hera’s face when she found out he got arrested on their first free day on Yavin IV, however, and decided to behave.

“Yes, sir,” Zeb said, keeping the bitterness from his voice. He stood, too, but made no move to leave until Kallus fell in between the Rebel leaders, limping slowly out of the medbay.

Once Kallus was gone, Zeb left, too, going off in search of the command center. He found it in the central room of the giant temple.

Hera and General Dodonna were waiting for him.

“Zeb,” Hera said with a nod. “How’s Kallus?”

“Mostly good, it looked like,” Zeb said. He looked at Dodonna. “But he just got dragged off by your Intelligence service.”

“ _Our_ Intelligence service,” Hera said lightly. “We’re part of Massassi Group now, Zeb.”

“We wanted to talk to you about where you’ll fit in here,” Dodoma said.

“I’m with the _Ghost_ ,” Zeb said, hoping that was job enough.

“And we’ll still be doing missions, mostly once the others get back,” Hera said. “Until then, I’m going to work with the pilots. You need a job, too.”

Zeb shifted on his toes. “Where’m I needed?”

“Your expertise as Honor Guard Captain could help our ground troops,” suggested Dodonna. “But I understand you might also prefer to work base security or with the mechanics pool.”

The idea of teaching troops again made Zeb panic a little. He’d done that once. It hadn’t ended well.

Security he knew – he’d been doing that at Atollon – but if the security here was of the type to put binders on a man in the medbay and mistrust someone who almost died for the Rebellion, he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with them, either.

“Mechanics,” he said. “I can do that.”

Hera looked at Zeb strangely and he got the distinct sense he’d disappointed her. His ears drooped a little, but he didn’t second-guess his choice.

Dodonna nodded. “That is fine. You’ll report to Cubber Daine in the morning. Please, spend the rest of today acquainting yourself with our base.” He paused. “I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the lasat diet, so if you need anything in particular, be sure to tell the kitchens.”

Zeb nodded. That wasn’t an issue, but it was nice of the general to say something. “I do have a question,” he said.

Dodonna gestured for him to continue.

“Kallus was just pulled out of the medbay by Intelligence. Will he walk out of that meeting or are you planning to detain him?”

“Zeb…” said Hera warningly.

“He spied for us,” Zeb protested. “He was tortured and barely got away. I guess I just wanna know what kind of group we’ve joined up with.”

Dodonna nodded. “It’s a fair concern. I don’t think you need to worry, however, captain.”

Zeb wasn’t sure whether or not he believed General Dodonna. He’d just have to wait and see what happened to Kallus.

“Have a seat,” said General Draven when Kallus limped into his office.

Kallus was grateful for the chance to sit – his knee was hurting again – but he was determined not to show weakness. He was above that. He’d been trained to work _through_ pain, not just in spite of it. “Thank you, sir,” he said politely.

No sense antagonizing the general.

“You understand, we’re curious about any high-level Imperial defectors,” Draven said, taking his own seat. The colonel with him stood off to the side, leaning against the wall.

“I understand. But isn’t your own General Dodonna a defector from the Imperial Navy? As I recall, he was one of the first Star Destroyer captains.”

“He was,” Draven confirmed. “But I’m asking about you.”

Kallus straightened in his chair. “What do you wish to know?”

“Why defect? You were in a privileged position. Eagerly, from my understanding.”

“It’s really quite simple. I started asking questions and realized I could not find reasonable answers,” Kallus explained. “I saw I was part of a machine and that I was not nearly as important to the Empire as the Empire was to me.”

Draven frowned. “And so you’re here out of… a sense of revenge?”

Kallus sighed. “No. The questions I asked led me to realize the Empire was wrong on a great many counts. Treatment of nonhumans, for one. The use of an overwhelming destructive force when finesse or diplomacy would be more efficient and convincing, for another. I was led to the inevitable conclusion that the Empire that exists was not the one I thought I served. That decided, the logical step was to assist the group trying to actually make the galaxy a better place.”

“So you switched sides.”

“I began small, causing what minor troubles for the Empire I could without being noticed, then managed to get in contact with Commander Sato, who assigned me the Fulcrum name, passcodes, and frequencies.”

The colonel spoke for the first time. “What changed, thought? Why’d you start asking questions?”

Kallus gave him a cool look. “I had an encounter with a Rebel operative in the field that left me in his debt. He pushed me to question more about my situation and I followed through.”

“Is that why Captain Orrelios is so close with you?” Draven asked.

 _He knows the answers to all of his questions,_ Kallus thought. _He wants to catch me in a lie. Well, he won’t._

“I suppose so,” Kallus said. “We managed not to kill each other, so that put us in an unusual situation. I was in a position to directly help many of his crewmates and the _Ghost_ picked up my escape pod during the Atollon battle. He has chosen to be friendly towards me.”

“And you towards him?” Draven arched an eyebrow.

Kallus blinked slowly, formulating his answer. “Yes,” he admitted. “I have seen no reason to act in any other manner. As it stands, Captain Orrelios may be my only friend on this base.”

Draven huffed a short laugh. “I believe you have more friends than you give yourself credit for. Captain Syndulla has been quite vocal in support of you, as well.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his desk. “Your friends are joining Massassi Group as equals to our own officers. The question is, where will you come in?”

Caught off guard, Kallus’s eyes widened. “I suppose I’m coming into the Rebellion wherever I’m told to be. I was greeted with binders upon my arrival, so you’ll understand if I don’t get my hopes up for a warm welcome.”

“You’ll probably run into a few people who dislike you,” Draven agreed. “Agent Kallus and the ISB in general did a good many of us great harm. But Fulcrum was a force for good, and on the balance, you seem to be more Fulcrum than Agent these days. You’ll forgive us taking a few days to evaluate you to be sure.”

 _They listened in on my conversations with Jaci and Maks in the medbay,_ Kallus realized. _I should have known that. It’s what I would have done; I underestimate the Rebels at my peril, even now._

“And what have you decided?” Kallus asked.

Draven opened a desk drawer and pulled out a square metal pin with two blue dots on it. “Welcome to the Rebellion, Captain Kallus. You’ll start with our Intelligence service in the morning. In the meantime, Colonel Atton is here to get you some clothes and a bed in a bunk with other officers.” He paused. “That is, unless you already have quarters on the _Ghost_?”

“No,” Kallus said quickly. “Nothing like that.” He picked up the rank tab, examining it. _I’m a Rebel now. They didn’t throw me in the brig. They want my help._

“Good. Now, I expect you’d like to settle in, use the refresher facilities and get a bite to eat.” Draven actually almost smiled. “From what I understand, the Imperial diet is somewhat lacking, so I hope you’ll be pleased with the food you find here.”

At the mention of food – _real food, not ration bars_ – Kallus’s stomach rumbled. He’d been given food meals in the medbay, but had assumed that was a perk of being sequestered there. To hear that regular Rebels were fed real food… well, he knew plenty of Imperials who might defect just for that.

Zeb kept his eyes peeled for familiar faces as he entered the Yavin IV mess hall. When he’d been dismissed from the Command Center, Hera had stayed behind to discuss… well, _something_ , Zeb was sure.

He just wasn’t sure what it was.

Some of the Phoenix Squadron pilots were over in one corner, talking to other pilots, their bright orange uniforms giving them away. There, in the middle of the room, were some of the Phoenix Cell ground troops, listening to Rex tell stories of the Clone Wars.

Zeb hadn’t seen who he was looking for yet, so he kept scanning.

And… _there_. In the back of the room, by himself, was Kallus. He was in new, non-Imperial clothes and his hair wasn’t combed back in its usual style, instead falling freely into his face.

Something in Zeb’s chest relaxed when he saw Kallus without a guard, without binders.

General Dodonna had been right. The Yavin IV rebels were honorable – or at least Zeb assumed so. He’d have to check in with Kallus to be sure.

Zeb followed the line to get food; better quality than they’d had at Atollon, he noticed. Did the Massassi Group have a crew dedicated to stealing food or had they found a sympathetic provider? 

Piling his plate high – he couldn’t narrow down what he wanted when so many good things were on offer – Zeb turned to go join Kallus.

Kallus was gone.

Zeb stood there, blocking the flow of traffic, looking around for where the ex-Imperial might have gone.

“Move!” hissed a trandoshan, jerking Zeb back to reality.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and made his way to an empty table.

Zeb poked at his food until Hera joined him. “We’ve got a mission,” she said.

“Already?” Zeb looked up, surprised. “What do they need from us?”

“In three days, there’s going to be a transfer of proton bombs over Serreno. We’re going to be there.” Hera twirled her fork. “You’ll have a couple days to get settled in with the mechanics pool, but I’ve got you whenever we have missions.”

“‘M Spectre Four first,” Zeb agreed.

“I know you are.” Hera smiled. Sobering a bit, she asked, “Did you find Kallus? I know you were going to look for him.”

“He _was_ here, so I guess they didn’t wanna punish him for being ISB.”

Hera shook her head. “Remember, General Dodonna was a high-level defector, too. They know to appreciate those here.”

Zeb _had_ forgotten that. He shrugged. “I don’t know where he is now; he left while I was getting food.”

“Probably getting settled in, too,” Hera reasoned. “You’ll catch up with him again soon.”

Zeb nodded; Hera was usually right about those sorts of things.

Except when she was wrong.

Zeb didn’t see Kallus at _all_ the next couple of days. He worked in the hangar bay, learning his way around the new X-wing fighters. There wasn’t much for him to do, though; there were plenty of mechanics and not enough ships.

His second day, he followed around a human about half his height named Jaci – and was shocked to learn she’d been one of the people Kallus had talked to in the medbay. 

Zeb had to immediately quash feelings of jealousy. He was apparently only partially successful; Jaci gave him odd looks from time to time before finally coming out and asking him about it directly.

“Do you have a problem with me?” she asked, hands on her hips, frowning.

Zeb rubbed his face with a hand, realizing he’d been glaring at her without meaning to. “No,” he said. “Just got somethin’ on my mind.”

Jaci nodded. “Do you need to talk about it?”

 _If I needed to talk, it wouldn’t be with you,_ Zeb thought. “No.”

She didn’t look as if she believed him, but she didn’t press the issue. “Fine. I’m just trying to help you find your way around here. I don’t exactly appreciate the death glare.”

Zeb tried harder after that to put Kallus from his mind. After all, it was obvious the man wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used some of Anath-Tsurugi's Lasana here!
> 
> Vo'arik = coward (used here instead of bastard)


	2. Chapter 2

“You never saw him, did you?” Hera asked when Zeb trudged out of his cabin the morning of their mission.

Zeb frowned. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew full well who Hera was referring to.

Hera gave him a knowing look.

Grumbling, Zeb went to the galley to scrounge up some breakfast.

Rex joined him momentarily, seeking out the caf machine. He grunted a hello to Zeb while he waited.

Zeb nodded back at the clone. Rex, much like Kanan and many other humans Zeb had observed, didn’t function properly until he’d had his caf each morning.

Waffles in hand, Zeb joined Hera at the dejarik table. She sipped her caf and watched him.

Zeb broke first. He always broke first when it came to Hera. “Okay, I _was_ looking for him. But just to make sure he’s settled in.”

Hera patted Zeb on the knee. “I’m sure he is or we’d have heard about it. Let him find his footing first before you worry.”

“‘M not worried,” Zeb lied around a mouthful of waffle.

Obviously seeing right through him, Hera nodded. “Don’t be,” she said, standing and stretching. “I’m off to get the last thing we need for the mission. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“We’ll be ready,” said Rex, leaning in the doorway and looking a bit more awake.

Hera grinned at them and disappeared down one of the ship’s ladders.

Rex looked down at Zeb. “You catch up with your boyfriend yet?”

Zeb growled, glaring at Rex, who just laughed.

“I _didn’t kill him_ , that doesn’t make us _boyfriends_ ,” Zeb muttered.

Wisely, Rex didn’t say anything else until later, when they were cleaning and charging blasters for the mission.

Zeb oiled his bo-rifle carefully, checking that all the parts were covered with a thin layer of the lubricant, enough to give it a clean, well-looked after shine. If he took care of it, his bo-rifle would take care of him, just as it had for years.

“Do you think the three of us can handle the proton torpedo transfer?” Rex asked suddenly.

Zeb laughed. “‘Transfer’? That’s a nice way of sayin’ ‘theft’, Rex.”

The clone grinned back. “Gotta make it sound official for the reports.”

“And there will be reports,” Hera said, almost wearily, as she climbed the ladder back to the _Ghost_ ’s main level. She was followed by a tall, thin mirialan woman with intricate facial tattoos. “This is Jael. She’s our Intelligence operative for this mission.”

“So that means…?” Rex asked, leaning forward onto the dejarik table.

“That means I’ve got the codes to get us in and out without a problem,” Jael said. “So I’m coming with you to make sure this runs smoothly.”

Zeb crossed his arms. He didn’t like bringing someone he didn’t know. “Why couldn’t Kallus be our operative?”

Jael’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not,” she snapped.

Zeb froze, eyes widening. Jael’s vehemence had come out of nowhere. He looked to Hera, who shook her head and shrugged.

“D’you have a problem with Kallus?” Zeb asked, sure he already knew the answer, if not the reason.

“I don’t care if he–” she stopped and shook her head. “I have my issues with the captain, including the fact that he’s a captain. Best leave it at that.”

Hands curling into fists, Zeb geared up for an argument, ready to kick this operative off the ship if she couldn’t be civil about Kallus.

Hera held up a hand, deflating the situation. “Jael, you have to understand he did a lot of good for us as Fulcrum. Zeb, remember that Kallus did a lot of horrible things in the name of the Empire,” she said, looking at each in turn but speaking to the room at large. “It’s no wonder some people don’t like him.”

Zeb sighed. It was true. Karabast, _he’d_ hated Kallus before Bahryn.

That didn’t mean he liked the truth. Kallus was a Rebel now, heart and soul. Shouldn’t they welcome him as one?

“Fine,” he said. “You’re sure your intel is good? Those codes will work?”

Jael nodded. “As sure as I am of anything.”

Zeb grunted. He was loath to trust the woman, but it looked like he was stuck. Hopefully her word and her intel were both good.

“Hey, Fulcrum!”

Kallus stopped short, stepping to the side of the hallway to wait for Jaci to catch up. 

She was in a grubby mechanic’s jumpsuit – _What idiot put mechanics in white?_ Kallus wondered – and smiling. 

“Hello,” Kallus said politely. “How is Maks doing?”

“Pretty good,” she said cheerfully. “Met a friend of yours yesterday.”

“Oh?” Kallus arched his eyebrows. Despite himself, Kallus wondered, _Zeb, did you see Garazeb?_

“Big purple guy by the name of Zeb,” she said, grinning. “He’s joining us in the mechanics’ pool.”

 _But Zeb is so much more skilled than that… why would he work there? Do they not appreciate his talents here?_ “Zeb? I suppose he does know a lot about keeping the _Ghost_ running.”

“And a few other ships,” Jaci said. “But man, he was grumpy as anything. I think he thinks you’re avoiding him.”

Kallus swallowed. “I haven’t been–” he cut himself off when he realized he had been avoiding Zeb – and that, despite that fact, he didn’t like hearing that Zeb was spending time with others.

 _But why? I need to examine that_.

Jaci gave him a look that was wiser than her years. “Talk to him, Kallus.”

“I– I will,” he promised. “At some point.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned. “I gotta go to my shift, but I wanted to let you know. Do the thing. Talk to your friend.”

Kallus watched as she turned and jogged back down the hallway, towards the hangar bay. He didn’t move; he was too busy thinking.

 _Zeb doesn’t really need me around,_ he told himself. _It’s better for us both if I don’t cling to him like a lost tooka. I am still under suspicion by much of this base and he doesn’t need to be dirtied by association with me. I don’t want to undermine the Spectres’ ability to blend in here._

The thoughts didn’t _feel_ right, but they _sounded_ right. The logic was sound when he ran through it a second time.

Continuing his journey, Kallus made his way to the Quartermaster’s office and found himself looking down. A brown chadra-fan – a meter tall if that – sat behind the desk.

“I need a case of new data tapes, please,” Kallus said.

The chadra-fan said nothing, hopping off the seat and going into the back room.

While he waited, Kallus tried not to think about the Spectres – about Zeb. He knew they’d left on a mission that morning, with Jael, who seemed competent enough.

Kallus still felt a little pang of jealousy.

 _It’s not seeing Zeb. It’s being stuck here. I’m a good fighter if one is needed and I know Imperial protocol by heart._ He sighed. _But my height makes me somewhat conspicuous and I **am** actively being sought by the Empire._

_I still want to be out there._

A large box seemingly carried itself out of the storeroom, the chadra-fan’s ears visible over the top.

 _Sticking out just like Zeb’s do_.

The box was plopped down on the desk. “Here,” said the chadra-fan, sounding put-out.

Kallus looked in the box. The data tapes he’d been given were in disarray, some obviously already used, some with the tapes pulled out, all thrown in messily. “You, ah, don’t have any newer tapes?” he asked. The tapes he’d been using in Intelligence were all in good shape, even if they were older; he’d expected to get more data tapes like those.

“Nope.” The chadra-fan’s answer was definitive.

 _Not for you,_ Kallus heard.

Was this a form of Rebel hazing? Or was this something more sinister? He thought about pressing the issues, but decided not to risk it. He didn’t need to make enemies among the Rebels.

_I probably have enough already._

“Right,” he said, taking the box. He’d take what he was given, then.

The mission had been cursed from the beginning, Zeb reflected. He should have known it would all go wrong when Jael was rude about Kallus.

They were pinned down in the transport ship’s hallway, with the cargo of proton torpedoes, while stormtroopers shot at them.

Zeb was just waiting for the moment when the troopers shot the torpedoes and killed them all.

Over the sound of blaster fire, Zeb shouted, “Well, this is a normal mission now!”

“What does that mean?” called back Jael, in-between taking some well-aimed shots at the stormtroopers.

“It means we get to run and shoot,” Rex said. “Run and shoot!”

She didn’t seem impressed. “The proton torpedoes!” she yelled. “Take the boxes, I’ll cover you.”

Zeb growled a little. “Wrong way around,” he said. “I cover everyone.”

“This is an Intelligence operation! You do what _I_ say!”

Zeb reached out and grabbed Jael’s shoulder. “You get to the ship with the torpedoes. My skin’s thicker’n yours. I can take a hit. You can’t.”

A blaster bolt shot between the two. Jael looked down where the bolt came close enough to singe some of Zeb’s fur.

“ _Run_!” Zeb said again, yelling to be heard by both Jael and Rex. “Get to the _Ghost_ , tell Hera to take off!”

 _Kallus would have figured out this was a trap,_ Zeb thought bitterly. _Kallus would be standing here with me and I would let him._

With a sickening feeling in his stomach, he tossed his bo-rifle through the air to Rex. “Give it to Kallus if I don’t…” he called. “And get those blasted torpedoes to the base!”

Rex nodded, understanding if not approving. He tucked the bo-rifle under his arm and ran down the hall after Jael, disappearing around the far corner.

Zeb ran to the nearest cross hall, using the walls of the ship as a shield. With his blaster – good, but not as good as his bo-rifle – he ducked around the corner, taking potshots.

“ _Zeb, where are you_?” Hera called over the comm.

“Gonna get another ride out of here!” Zeb replied. “The usual.”

“ _We’ll pick you up, but hurry_.”

Zeb turned and ran down the clear hall behind him, intending to flank the troopers and get to the escape pods, but he skidded around the corner straight into another platoon of stormtroopers.

Scrambling, he tried to turn around and run away again.

These troopers, however, were smarter than the usual ones. Instead of firing individually, they all fired at once, creating a screen of blaster bolts that Zeb couldn’t avoid.

He was burned and hurting, but not down for the count. He roared and lunged at the troopers, hoping to bash some helmets together.

This time, the blaster bolts came from behind him, forcing Zeb to duck before he could complete his attack.

He knew why he’d had that sick feeling in his stomach. Zeb hissed into the comlink, “I’m not gonna make it.”

“ _We’re coming back_.”

“No, you have to get those torpedoes to base! Go without me!”

“ _Zeb…_ ”

” _Hera, he’s right.”_ That was Rex. _“We need to leave as soon as these torps are on board. We can’t get to him.”_

_“He’s family. I’m not leaving him behind.”_

_“You don’t have a choice, Captain. Think of the mission; it’s what he’s doing. Let your soldier fight his battle.”_

“You’ll come back for me later. Right now those torpedoes are more important.” Zeb watched as the stormtroopers approached him. They’d stopped shooting, which meant they wanted him alive.

_They want to know where our base is. Well, I’m not gonna tell ‘em._

Dropping the comlink, he ran forward again, straight into a bright blue stun bolt.

He fell flat on his face, faintly hearing Hera still talking on the comm.

_“We’ll be back, Zeb, I promise. Don’t give up.”_

He wouldn’t give up, Zeb swore. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid.

The last person to lecture Kallus on poor performance had been Thrawn. Before that, Tarkin. Both had left Kallus angry, but cowed.

General Draven seemed to have their skill at admonishment.

Kallus stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, listening to the general chew him out for the simple mistake of bringing back poor quality data tapes. It seemed a response out-of-proportion to the crime, but Kallus supposed Draven was ensuring his point was driven home.

“You are part of this Intelligence service now. If someone on this base doesn’t respect you, remind them to respect your position,” Draven said, pounding a fist on his desk as he spoke. He stood, bent over a little, almost the same height as Kallus.

Idly, Kallus wondered if Draven had donated any of his clothes to the small wardrobe that filled Kallus’s Rebel footlocker. There weren’t many other humans his height or build on the base.

“Yes, sir,” Kallus said. “I apologize for not insisting the quartermaster retrieve the right items. It won’t happen again.”

Draven looked at his chrono. “It’s almost shift change. Before you go, I want you to get the new tapes. If that means you have to wait until a new quartermaster is on duty, then that’s what you’ll do.”

Kallus nodded. He hadn’t planned on quitting work yet anyway. His shift might be over, but what did he have to do? Sit in his shared bunkroom? Take a walk in the jungle by himself? Strike up a conversation with a stranger?

_Ha. As if anyone but Draven really wants me around. Better to be here, making a difference than to be wasting time doing something worthless._

Draven’s comm whistled. He glared at it as he spoke. “This is Draven.”

“ _General, this is Jael. The_ ** _Ghost_** _is about to land and I need to make a report_.” 

Kallus went on alert at the mention of the _Ghost_.

Jael did not sound confident. “ _The mission was a partial failure. We got the torpedoes, but it was a trap and we lost a man_.”

Immediate panic rose up in Kallus. He stared at the comlink, waiting to hear what happened.

Draven’s expression darkened even more. “Get down here as soon as you land; we need to examine our intel trail and see where the leak is.”

“ _Yes, sir_.”

Kallus tried to control the panic, but failed. He looked at Draven, wild-eyed.

“Captain, you have your orders. You’re still on duty,” Draven reminded him coolly. 

“Sir.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Kallus fidgeting behind his back as one terrifying scenario after another played themselves out in his mind. Zeb dead, Zeb captured, Zeb injured permanently…

“Go check on the crew, Captain,” Draven sighed. “Be back here in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir!” Kallus saluted and left the general’s office as quickly as he could manage. As soon as he hit the corridor, he ran, full-out sprinting the entire way up to the landing field.

The _Ghost_ ’s ramp was opening as Kallus reached it, out of breath and limping after running on his bad knee.

His eyes traveled over the three people who walked off the ship: Hera, Rex, and Jael, all pushing supply crates.

No Zeb.

Hera’s eyes were red, as if she’d been upset. “Kallus,” she said when she saw him, voice controlled and steady.

Kallus didn’t even try to hide his concern. “Zeb?”

“Didn’t make it off the transport,” Rex said, sounding ashamed. He reached behind him and pulled out–

–Zeb’s bo-rifle.

“Said to give you this.”

Kallus gently took the bo-rifle, feeling suddenly and violently nauseous. Tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them away for the most part. _Why did I avoid him? It was my last chance to talk to the one person who cared enough to seek me out in the medbay. Who saved my life, multiple times. Sithspit, Alexsandr, you’re an idiot and you’ll never see him again._

“He’s alive,” Hera said, bringing Kallus’s heart to a stop. His eyes shot back to her and she nodded. “He was alive when we left, just caught.”

The roiling in Kallus’s stomach did not lessen.

_“I know what happens to lasat in Imperial prisons,” he said, back on that ice moon. I dismissed him then, but now I know…_

“They’ll want to use him to find us,” Kallus said, channeling his panic into something more productive. “We’ve got to find him first.”

Hera let her crate drift to a stop and studied Kallus. “‘We’?”

“We,” Kallus confirmed. The Spectres had come back for Ezra when they’d only known him a day; of _course_ there would be a rescue mission for Zeb. “I know you well enough to know you won’t abandon him–” _and neither will I_ “–and you’ll need all the help you can get.”

She nodded. “You’re right. But first we need to know where they’ve taken him.”

“I’ll get to work and find out where he is,” Kallus swore. _I **will** find out. I will get Zeb out of Imperial hands **before** they do him harm or I will die trying._

It had been over a day, Zeb thought. He wasn’t sure his sense of time was infallible, but it felt like it’d been more than a day since the stormtroopers dragged him out of the ship’s brig and into a building, where they threw him into a cell and then seemed to forget about him.

He sat on the bench, gently touching his blaster wounds, checking to see if they were getting infected without bacta treatment.

Zeb hissed. He wasn’t sure about infection, but the wounds still hurt. “Karabast…” he muttered. 

Wishing he had a mirror, Zeb tried to inspect himself. He’d taken four blaster bolts to his front, two on his right leg, and one in the middle of his back that kept him from sleeping comfortably. 

He leaned back carefully, resting his eyes but keeping his ears perked up, listening for any movement outside his cell. Food, maybe. Interrogation, maybe. Execution, maybe.

Anything but this endless waiting.

A few hours later, Zeb woke from dozing when he heard the sound of a trooper squad moving down the hallway. A whole squad meant something more than food delivery. 

He stood, crouched a little, ready to move if he got the opportunity. He wasn’t going to let them off easy, whatever the troopers had planned.

The door swooshed upwards and his little room filled with stormtroopers. He growled a little and they all aimed their blasters at him.

Zeb was busy calculating how many he could take out before they took him down when an officer stepped into the open doorway.

The officer checked a datapad. “Captain Garazeb Orrelios, Rebel Spectre-4, Lasan High Honor Guard.” He lowered the datapad and peered at Zeb. “Or do I have the wrong lasat?”

Zeb’s growl deepened and the man smiled.

“You’re going to tell us how to get to the Rebel base,” he said smarmily. “Troopers, stun him.”

Zeb tried to duck, but he was hit squarely in the chest by multiple blue stun bolts. They sent him to the floor – again. He could do nothing as he was hauled out of the cell and down the hall to what was clearly an interrogation room, where a few junior officers waited.

The table was built for human dimensions and the restraints pressed painfully on Zeb’s wounds as they were secured.

Slowly, Zeb started to be able to move again – blinking first, then his fingers and toes, then he could speak.

“Whatever you think I’m gonna say, you’re wrong,” he said. “I’m tougher than you think.”

“Perhaps,” the Imperial mused. “That’s why I’m going to give you something to help loosen your tongue.”

Zeb glared, hoping his fear of talking didn’t show through. Kallus had resisted the drugs, though, and if Kallus could do it, so could Zeb.

An IT-O Interrogator droid floated down from the ceiling. Zeb bit his lip, knowing the droid’s reputation through the grapevine of former victims. They were made for the ISB and usually very effective.

At least on humans. _This might not work on me_ , Zeb thought hopefully. He’d never had the chance to ask Kallus if they worked on nonhumans, especially large nonhumans like himself.

The droid floated close and extended its needle. Zeb hissed as it entered his skin, the drug burning as it was injected.

At first, Zeb felt no different, but a few seconds later, his throat started burning and his head swam. He struggled to breathe, trying to take large gulps of air but finding only a little made its way into his lungs. His skin started tingling, spreading out from the injection site until everything burned.

If his head was cleared, he would have wondered why an interrogation drug would make it hard for him to talk, but that much focus was difficult.

“Colonel Salaban!” said one junior officer.

“I see!” hissed the man who’d dragged him out of his cell. “He’s allergic. Someone get a medic or we’ll have wasted all this time!”

 _Oh good,_ thought Zeb woozily. _I’m wasting their time_.

Kallus hadn’t slept for two nights, preferring to stay at his desk and comb through every intercepted Imperial transmission, looking for any mention of a lasat or Serreno. Even proton torpedoes would have gotten his interest.

There was nothing, though.

Eventually, Draven had ordered Kallus to leave the Intelligence room and to not come back until at least ten hours had passed.

Kallus knew he was meant to go to his bunk and sleep those ten hours, maybe even get something to eat, but he couldn’t.

How could he sleep when Zeb was in Imperial hands? He knew what _he_ would have done if he’d ever gotten his hands on the lasat – and that thought terrified him.

He wandered the halls of the Massassi Temple, trying to figure out what he could do that was productive.

Maks, the pilot from the medbay, saw him in the halls and jogged to catch up with him, seemingly unaware of Kallus’s turmoil.

“Hi!” he said. “Haven’t seen you in the mess hall for a couple days. You okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” snapped Kallus in a manner that proved he was most definitely _not_ fine.

Maks backed off a little. “You sure? Can I help with anything?”

 _Can you go back in time and protect Zeb? Can you pull him out of thin air now?_ “I said I’m _fine,_ ” growled Kallus. “Leave me alone before I send you _back_ to the medbay.”

“Okay…” Maks held up his hands and backed off. “Just tryin’ to help.”

Eager to get away from anyone else who might try to talk to him, Kallus headed out to the landing field, staring at the _Ghost_. The ship was quiet in the twilight, a soft glow coming from inside it.

_How can they be so calm? How are they not panicking?_

“Watch out!” someone called from off to his left.

Kallus jumped back just in time for an empty fuel cell to roll right through where he’d been standing. A sheepish looking mechanic chased after it.

“ _IMBECILE!”_ Kallus yelled. He’d been wound so tightly that his anger was bound to come out and this mechanic just happened to set him off. “Do you usually perform so poorly that you can’t even control a single fuel cell and instead are a menace to anyone walking around the field? Who is your supervisor? I should–”

“ _Captain Kallus!_ ”

Kallus snapped his head towards the sound of his name to see Hera stalking towards him.

She dismissed the mechanic with a wave of her hand; the poor man took the chance to run.

“What are you doing?” she asked Kallus, speaking slowly.

Kallus tried to calm himself down, but he couldn’t bleed all the anger from his voice. “I am not allowed back in the Intelligence room for ten hours,” he bit out. “I ought to still be working, but–”

Hera interrupted again. “But General Draven doesn’t want you to kill yourself.”

“I’m _useless_ if I’m not in there,” Kallus said, and a touch of a whine made itself heard.

Daring, Hera placed a hand on Kallus’s shoulder, making him tense. Just barely, he managed not to react poorly to the touch.

“When’s the last time you ate?” she asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Hera turned Kallus to look at her. “Kallus, I want you – and this is an _order_ – to come in the _Ghost_ and eat something. Then, I am going to lock you in a cabin and I expect you to sleep.”

Technically, Hera couldn’t issue him orders, but he had to admit to being in a dreadful state of mind. Maybe Hera was right. If he was following her direct orders, then he couldn’t blame himself for not actively working to find Zeb.

Shamefully – he ought to be able to control himself better than he had – Kallus nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said softly.

“Good.” Hera escorted him into the _Ghost_ and up to the common area, where Rex sat, playing dejarik against Chopper. “Rex, heat up some leftovers for Kallus here,” she instructed.

Rex hopped up and Kallus took his place on the bench seat. Chopper warbled a question.

“He’ll be fine, Chop,” Hera said, patting the droid on his dome. “But after he eats, your job is to make sure he doesn’t leave Zeb and Ezra’s bunk.”

Kallus’s eyes widened. “No, I couldn’t,” he said. “I’ll go back to my bunk in the temple.”

Rex handed him a hot plate of food and a fork. “Better just do what she says, Captain. It’ll be easier for everybody.”

With a look at Hera, Kallus knew Rex was correct. He took the food and started eating awkwardly as the others watched.

As soon as he finished, Chopper began bumping into his legs, herding him down the hall to Zeb’s cabin. Kallus hesitated before going in.

It’d only been a week since he’d last been there, broken and weak and resisting all care. He’d blamed himself for every death at Atollon, every ship and life lost.

_If Thrawn hadn’t caught me…_

_…I’d still be on Lothal, still pretending to be an Imperial._

The thought made him sick. He was better off with the Rebels, he knew, at least until the Empire found them again. Even then, he was better off dead than still in the ISB.

“ _Sleep!_ ” called Hera and Chopper ran into his ankles again, brandishing his shock prod as a threat.

Kallus entered Zeb’s room.

It smelled of lasat, just as he remembered. The bed was soaked in Zeb’s scent and Kallus gave serious thought to climbing into the top bunk and sleeping on Ezra’s bed.

He didn’t, however. He breathed deeply, allowing himself to believe for a moment that Zeb was there with him. That, as before, Zeb would open up his cabin and his bed to Kallus. His friendship, even.

Those lies in his brain, Kallus drifted off to sleep.

Some hours later – eleven, according to his chrono – Kallus woke, smelling Zeb and smiling.

The ship seemed quiet, and indeed, when he exited the cabin, he didn’t see Hera, Rex, or Chopper.

Kallus felt rested and ready to attack the Imperial missives again. He wrestled a little with some guilt over abandoning Zeb for those eleven hours, but told himself Zeb would have wanted him to sleep, too.

People in the temple gave him a wide berth, perhaps remembering his temper the night before. Kallus didn’t bother to correct anyone.

As soon as he walked into the Intelligence room, Draven called for him.

Kallus braced himself for another dressing down, perhaps for taking _too_ long, but as he walked in the office, Draven stood.

“We found him,” he said. “He’s on Axxila. You’re joining the extraction team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to WhiplashCrash for help with this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Kallus forced himself to walk the short trip upstairs, knowing that if he limped into the Command Center after aggravating his knee, he’d be bumped from the rescue mission.

The knee wouldn’t cause him problems on the mission. He could work – and fight – through pain, but if the Rebels at large were as meddling as the Spectres, then they might ground him despite his abilities.

 _Axxila_. Kallus never had reason to visit the planet and had never wanted to. He knew only a little of the planet; it was said to be ‘Coruscant, but inside-out’ – an ecumenopolis with the seediest parts up top. Of course, with his training, knowing little of a planet still gave him a better overview than most other officers.

He walked briskly into the Command Center, noting that Senators Mon Mothma and Bail Organa were present.

 _I suspected Organa was a Rebel, but no one ever asked me to prove it,_ Kallus thought. _I’m glad now that I didn’t._

Standing around the holotable also were Hera, Rex, and a human Intelligence officer he’d seen before but never been introduced to.

“Captain Kallus, glad you could join us,” said Senator Mothma in a tone that managed to make it sound pleasant instead of a reprimand. “You’re just in time for the briefing. I don’t believe you’ve met your colleague, Captain Andor?”

Kallus nodded at the young man, filing the name and face away in his memory. “I understand we’re going to Axxila.”

“Yes, Captain Syndulla will insert you onto Axxila, while yourself, Captain Andor, and Captain Rex will disguise yourselves as an ISB agent and his retinue.”

The hair on the back of Kallus’s neck stood on end. “I’m too–”

“Not you, Captain,” said the other Intelligence agent. “Though you’ll tell me all the codes I need to know.”

“As you were certainly about to say,” Hera said, “you’re too recognizable, even if you shaved. Cassian can play ISB with you backing him up.”

“So if I’m too recognizable, why am I going?” Kallus asked. He didn’t want to get kicked from the mission, but he was understandably curious about his role.

Organa nodded to an aide standing in the corner, who brought Kallus a box before handing another box to Rex. The clone groaned when he pulled out a piece of stormtrooper armor.

Kallus carefully lifted a black helmet from his own box. “A death trooper?” he asked, a chill going through him. Even to an ISB agent with near-unlimited power to take over command of ships and bases and run whatever operations he wanted, death troopers were intimidating. They were overseen by Imperial Intelligence, ISB’s rival, and rumors about their training and bodily ‘enhancements’ were whispered in dark corners and with more than a little fear. As an agent, Kallus had tried to emulate their training and incorporate it into his own routines.

“Covers your face and you’re too tall for a regular trooper,” Hera explained.

That made sense. Kallus nodded, closing the box back up. “Beyond inserting us, what is the plan?”

“There is no plan,” Rex said. “We’re gonna wing it.”

Kallus looked at Andor, hoping for some sense from a fellow Intelligence operative.

Andor did not follow through. “We don’t have the personnel and asset report for the base, but it’s a standard Imperial Complex. Either we go now with less intelligence or we risk your friend’s life by making him wait longer.”

Put like that, there was really only one option: “When do we leave?”

The black death trooper armor fit Kallus surprisingly well, the body glove only needing to stretch a little bit to accommodate him. The armor had been made for a tall and slender trooper; between the Imperial diet – designed for survival and weight maintenance or loss – and the fact Kallus had kept himself fit, the disguise was fairly comfortable. Even the belt, packed to the brim with power packs and grenades and thermal detonators, sat well on Kallus’s hips.

Rex was not having the same luck with his stormtrooper uniform. He fidgeted with the body glove and armor, muttering about the superiority of clone trooper gear.

Kallus spent the hyperspace trip to Axxila disabling the voice scramblers and adjusting the frequencies in his and Rex’s helmets so they could communicate, all while drilling Andor on ISB security codes and overrides. Most base commanders dropped everything at the mention of the ISB, but a few were foolhardy enough to question the agent come to investigate their command.

He was glad to have a task, something to keep his focus off the mission ahead, off the danger Zeb might be in. Anytime his thoughts turned that direction, fire rose in his gut, anger narrowing his vision.

It wasn’t productive to think like that. Kallus swallowed the anger and looked across the passenger section of the shuttle at Andor, who’d been staring at him for a few minutes. “What?” he bit out.

“Fulcrum,” Andor said, smoothing down the uniform they’d tailored for him out of the one Kallus had escaped in. “I was a Fulcrum in the Albarrio sector. A recruiter.”

Kallus arched his eyebrows. He’d known Fulcrum wasn’t a single person, but this was his first time meeting another one. “Why aren’t you there now?”

“Same reason you aren’t on Lothal,” Andor said. “I came too close to getting caught.”

Kallus hadn’t _almost_ been caught; he’d actually been caught and escaped. He wasn’t going to correct the young man, though.

Hera stepped out of the cockpit, looking remarkably cool and collected. “We’ve got the codes to land near the base, but it’s up to you after that,” she said, looking at Andor. “Rely on Kallus if you need to.”

Checking his weapons – blaster, rifle, grenades, and most importantly, Zeb’s bo-rifle – Kallus nodded. “The arrival of ISB with a death trooper ought to be enough to cow most Imperial officials,” he said, remembering any number of times he’d paid unannounced visits and how his mere presence terrified the military and governmental officials he found. “Only the very stupid or very brave will question us.”

Of course, it all depended on how well Andor played his part. One minor slip-up could tip their hand.

An hour later, Chopper tootled that they were approaching their hyperspace drop point. Kallus followed Hera into the cockpit, intent on making sure the approach codes were correct. If the Empire – or even just the ISB – had changed codes in reaction to his defection, they were all in trouble.

Kallus was betting they hadn’t, however. That would involve a complete overhaul of their procedures and systems and one rogue agent wasn’t worth all the manpower it would take to come up with new codes, distribute them to agents and facilities, and implement even tighter security methods.

In other words, they ought to be able to waltz right in and take prisoner Garazeb Orrelios ‘for enhanced interrogation’ without any issue.

The streets of Axxila reminded Kallus of the lower levels of Coruscant where he’d grown up; the planet had earned its reputation honestly.

Kallus walked – or perhaps glided – behind Andor and next to Rex. The death trooper armor was not as limiting to his movement as he’d expected and he was able to walk tall and straight and smooth, just as he might if he’d been trying to intimidate some admiral. The tight body glove worked with his knee brace instead of against it.

Andor might not have been moving as gracefully as Kallus, but he still played his part, stalking forward with purpose, arms crossed behind him properly, paying no attention to anyone around him – that was the job of Kallus and Rex. 

It was a job Kallus took seriously. He knew from experience that even government officials were targets for pickpocketing or other crimes in streets like these, particularly from the children of the streets.

Kallus _ought_ to know to be wary of the street brats; he’d been one when he was young. Some of that experience was what led him to be so successful in the ISB: a practical resourcefulness and ruthlessness that came from growing up poor on Coruscant.

As they neared the entrance to the planet’s main Imperial Complex – identical to Lothal’s and many other outer rim worlds because it was cheaper and easier to mass-produce the buildings centrally and then move them into place – the stormtrooper presence became greater. Two-man patrols became squadrons became platoons.

Andor strode up to the main entrance. “I am Agent Breckon of the ISB, here as part of an ongoing investigation. Please inform your commander that I will require his cooperation.”

The troopers guarding the front doors straightened a little. “Yes, sir. Can I have your identification number?”

“I am ISB-067,” Andor said haughtily.

The trooper nodded and spoke through his helmet’s comm unit before opening the doors.

A black-clad aide came running down the hall, greeting Andor with a salute, fear in her eyes.

Kallus let the edge of his mouth twitch upwards. Maybe this was going to be easier than he’d thought.

The aide babbled at first as she led the way to the commander’s office, but a quick gesture from Andor silenced her.

Kalllus was impressed with his acting, at least so far. He’d behaved much like Kallus would have were he actually inspecting the facility.

The three men were shown into an office where a nervous-looking man stood behind a desk. “Welcome, Agent Breckon. I’m Colonel–”

“Colonel Salaban, I know,” Andor said. The aide had mentioned his name in her chattering, but it made for a more impressive entrance on Andor’s part.

“Um, yes. What can I do for the ISB?”

Andor picked lint off his gloves. “You have a prisoner we are interested in. A lasat with known Rebel ties.”

“Yes,” said Salaban. “Garazeb Orrelios.”

Kallus’s fists clenched on hearing Zeb’s name.

“We’ve been questioning him about the location of the Rebel’s main base. There were some… _complications_ with him at first, but they didn’t seem to cause the beast any permanent damage.”

Despite the rage he felt, Kallus stood ramrod straight, forcing himself to remain impassive. The situation was no different than when he’d lied to Thrawn’s face any number of times over the last year. In fact, it was less perilous because there was no way this Colonel Salaban was as astute as Thrawn.

That didn’t stop him from listening intently to Andor and Salaban’s conversation. He’d only had a few hours to verse Andor in ISB protocol; had it been enough? Could they trick the colonel?

“We intend to take your prisoner with us. He has answers the ISB wants and we prefer to get them ourselves.”

Salaban nodded. “Of course. I’ll have my men escort him to your shuttle.”

Andor sniffed. “We will handle him ourselves.”

“He’s drugged,” Salaban warned, “but are you prepared for a prisoner of his size and strength? He’s over two meters and there are security holos of him–”

“Knocking over stormtroopers?” Andor asked. “Yes, I’m well aware of the danger; this is why I brought a death trooper along. The lasat will comply – or he will hurt.”

Salaban gulped. “As you say, sir. I’ll escort you down there myself.”

Andor nodded. “Very well. Please show us to the prisoner.”

Salaban almost knocked his seat over in his hurry to show the ISB retinue out of his office.

Frowning, Kallus fell in step behind Andor. This was going easily so far. Too easily. The only complication was Salaban’s presence, but they could easily lock him in one of his own cells.

Something in Kallus’s gut said things were about to get dirty, and he didn’t dare dismiss the warning. The last time he had, Thrawn caught him.

That feeling followed him as they made their way up to the detention level – two floors above ground in the large spherical building. 

It came to a head when they rounded a corner and ran into a _real_ ISB agent.

He was young enough to still be a little scrawny, probably fresh from the Academy and his eyes widened when he saw Andor in the ISB uniform.

“I wasn’t aware of a visit by another agent,” the kid said. “Foxx, ISB-225.”

“Breckon, ISB-067,” said Andor with just enough disdain that Foxx ought to have backed down in favor of a superiorly ranked agent.

He didn’t.

Foxx’s eyes narrowed, darting to Kallus and Rex in turn, before facing Salaban. “Sir, Agent Breckon lectured my class at the Academy. This is not ISB Agent Breckon.”

Kallus swore under his breath. Of all the agents he knew, he had to have Andor imitate one who’d been a guest instructor at the Academy. Moving quickly, he brought his blaster up and incapacitated Salaban before he called in reinforcements.

Andor was grappling with Foxx, trying to knock a comlink out of his hands. Rex was trying to get a good angle for a shot, but he wasn’t finding one.

Kallus saw Foxx’s thumb hit the switch on the comlink and knew their time was up. With a single click, Foxx could have summoned a whole company of troopers. Swinging the bo-rifle off his back holster, he expanded the electrostaff ends. There wasn’t much room in the hallway to swing it, so he aimed one of the ends directly at Foxx’s neck.

The agent was quick, but not quick enough. He fell to his knees after being hit with the purple electricity, glaring at Kallus. 

Kallus knew that face, even if he didn’t know the person. He knew it because he’d worn it for years: complete and utter belief in the Empire and its methods, backed by anger at those who would disrupt the Imperial order.

Well, Kallus was determined to disrupt Foxx’s order. Salaban’s, too, and anyone else who had anything to do with Zeb’s imprisonment and interrogation.

Kallus felt his blood pumping, adrenaline coursing through him, as he hit Agent Foxx with the bo-rifle again. This time, he didn’t let up until Foxx was no longer a threat to them.

He was glad he couldn’t see Rex’s face. The Spectres usually preferred to knock out their opponents, not kill, but Kallus didn’t see that they had that luxury. 

Andor understood. “We’ll follow you,” he said simply. 

It made the most sense, tactically: Kallus knew the layout of these Imperial Complexes like the back of his hand, but he was also glad to be the point man.

There was some bloodlust that needed to be sated. Punishments that needed to happen for daring to hurt his friend. And no one involved needed to be able to hurt anyone else ever again.

Running at top speed – ignoring his knee, in Kallus’s case – they made their way through the Complex, oblivious Imperial officials and sycophants leaping to the sides of the hallway to get out of their way. No one questioned why a death trooper was carrying a non-regulation weapon; perhaps no one knew death trooper standard issue well enough.

Their luck changed as they reached the hallway to the brig.

Between them and Zeb stood two actual death troopers and what appeared to be a platoon of stormtroopers.

For the first time in his life, Kallus wished one of the Jedi were present.

Kallus didn’t glance back to see if Andor and Rex were following him. He set his grip on the bo-rifle – so close to the feel of the one he’d left behind but not quite close enough to be an extension of his body and his will – and charged, kicking back a smoke grenade as it was rolled their way.

Thick gray smoke filled the hallway. Kallus knew it would only bother Andor; the trooper helmets would filter it out and use enhanced vision to see in the murky air. The death trooper helmet didn’t fit like his ISB one, but it had similar visibility – and tactical readouts assessing the situation in the hall – so it wasn’t a hindrance.

Kallus was in his element. He dropped and slid in low, sweeping the bo-rifle above him and hitting troopers just below the knees, between pieces of armor. The death troopers jumped out of the way, but Kallus was already getting on his feet, intending to distract them while Andor and Rex took out the stormtroopers.

Death trooper training was said to be among the best there was. Even in the Imperial ranks, some of it was cloaked in mystery, but some methods and learned skills were well-known.

Kallus had taught himself some of that, just as he’d taught himself multiple staff-fighting styles so that he would be as proficient with his bo-rifle as the guardsman who’d given it to him. He’d never measured himself against a death trooper – unless one counted Thrawn’s death troopers who tortured him – but Kallus refused to believe he would lose.

He couldn’t lose. Zeb was counting on him. All the Spectres were counting on him.

Back on his feet, Kallus squared off against the two death troopers, who’d pulled out collapsible electrostaffs.

Apparently they liked the idea of a fair fight, too.

Kallus smirked inside his helmet and breathed out, letting go of his oh-so-careful control as he did so. Fear rose up, as did anger, but mostly there was a determination that he would do _whatever_ it took to rescue Zeb from this place. To make sure Zeb never faced such a thing again.

He ran at the death troopers, parrying some strikes, blocking others. He pushed at them, full strength, and actually slid them back nearly a meter.

That gave him more room to move, which just made him deadlier.

Kallus’s smirk became a twisted, vicious smile.

Zeb dozed.

There wasn’t much else he could do. Sitting up made his head spin. Even trying to think made his head hurt.

Something niggled at the edge of his consciousness. A noise. A lot of noise, actually.

More noise than usually happened when they came to get him for interrogations.

 _Interrogations_. Hah. It was straight-up-torture these last few times. Zeb supposed they’d figured out he wouldn’t talk, at least not about the stuff they wanted him to.

After that first disastrous attempt at questioning him, they’d found a drug cocktail that was safe for lasats. In some of his more lucid moments, Zeb wondered if he’d known the lasat who they’d tested formulas on to figure that one out.

The noise was still going on.

There was something familiar about it.

Fighting. That was it. There was fighting going on out there.

Despite the headache, Zeb forced himself to listen more carefully. Fighting could be important.

He heard blasters. He heard yelling.

He heard a familiar electrical buzz.

 _His bo-rifle_.

And if his bo-rifle was out there…

_Kal._

The room swam in his vision and Zeb closed his eyes. 

He kept an ear turned towards the fighting – it was all just one loud incomprehensible noise if he didn’t try to concentrate on it – and heard when his cell door opened.

Getting up and defending himself would have been a good option. Same with simply sitting up and looking at his visitor. Zeb couldn’t manage either of those, however.

Instead, he turned his head slowly, trying to focus on the black-clad figure walking down the stairs. There was something off about them, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Their walk? Their weapon? The fact they weren’t hitting Zeb with a stun bolt?

He figured it all out when the death trooper removed his helmet, shaking out sweaty blond hair.

If the sight didn’t tell him who it was, the smell certainly did.

“Kallllll!” Zeb slurred. “Came f’r me.”

Kallus looked at Zeb strangely, but held out the bo-rifle. “Zeb, we’ve got to go.”

Zeb tried to sit up, but rolled off the bench onto the floor instead.

“Kriff, they really did drug you.” Kallus collapsed the bo-rifle and stashed it on his back before kneeling next to Zeb. He tried to pat Zeb’s cheeks to sober him a little.

Kallus’s hands tickled his fur. Zeb laughed and grabbed at the human’s hands, feeling that it was very important to hold onto them. It was very important to keep Kallus near him. He purred happily as he grabbed one of Kallus’s hands and rubbed his cheek against it, scenting Kallus as best he could from that position.

“Zeb…” Kallus said, tensely and in warning. “Rex and another man are out there holding off the stormtroopers, but they can’t do that forever. Please work with me. I need you to stand up and walk.”

Kallus helped Zeb sit up and then climb to his feet, tucking himself under Zeb’s right shoulder. 

Staring at Kallus for a moment, Zeb got the strangest urge.

It seemed to be right, so he followed through.

Quickly, sloppily, Zeb kissed Kallus on the cheek.

The man froze, that same cheek coloring red, making those small tan dots on his face stand out even more.

Zeb wanted to kiss each of them, but he satisfied himself with trying to count them, tapping Kallus’s cheek with a claw.

“Zeb, what are you doing?”

“Y’r spots,” Zeb said. “Like ‘em.”

Kallus shifted more of Zeb’s weight onto himself. “Walk with me, Garazeb. Help me get you out of here like I promised I would.”

Still purring – Zeb couldn’t have stopped if he tried and he wasn’t particularly keen to do so – Zeb took first one step, then another. The stairs were tricky, but he managed them with a lot of help from Kallus.

In celebration, Zeb kissed Kallus’s cheek again.

Zeb thought Kallus might have turned toward him a little, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure it actually happened.

A stray blaster bolt came down the hall, barely missing them. Zeb didn’t care as much as he knew he ought to. All that mattered to him in the moment was Kallus’s proximity.

He wanted to be closer.

Zeb tried to pull Kallus into a hug, but the human fought him off. “Zeb, I’m _trying to save you_.”

Pouting, Zeb stared at Kallus, silently begging.

Kallus sighed and very carefully, as if he wasn’t sure if the gesture would be welcome or not, ran a gloved thumb along Zeb’s lower lip. He dropped his hand and started forward again. “You’re drugged, Zeb. You’re not acting like yourself. I don’t want to let you do anything you’ll regret, but I promise if you come with me to the ship, you can hug all the people you want.”

Zeb wanted him to touch his lips again. It was a very forward move in lasat culture, but not one that Zeb was opposed to right then. Karabast, if Kallus wanted to declare undying love by kissing him on the mouth, Zeb would take it.

After all, Zeb was already trying to demonstrate his intention to court seriously by kissing Kallus’s cheek. He was waiting for Kallus to either rebuff him completely or return the gesture.

In the meantime, he’d keep trying.

Kallus had never seen Zeb in such a state.

To be fair, he hadn’t actually seen all that much of Zeb, beyond their nights together on Bahryn and after Atollon, but even that was enough to know Zeb was not usually so affectionate.

Eager affection was also foreign to Kallus. He hadn’t been the recipient of such attention since he was a very young boy. It was embarrassing and inappropriate, but…

Well, it was nice. Coming from Zeb, especially.

Kallus didn’t think of Zeb as anything other than a friend, but he knew that among some species, some cultures, friendship was often expressed physically. Perhaps lasat were among those peoples. It was the only logical explanation for why Zeb would act like this, even drugged.

He adjusted Zeb’s crushing grip on his shoulder and put the death trooper helmet back on, using the comm to scan for Imperial communications that would betray a gathering of troops to stop them.

Just because he didn’t hear any, however, didn’t mean they weren’t there.

They were reaching the hardest and most crucial part of the rescue: getting Zeb back to the ship. Getting him out of his cell meant nothing if the Imperials put him right back into it.

Andor was limping when Kallus and Zeb turned the corner into the main hallway, but both he and Rex were still standing – and most of the stormtroopers not.

Kallus felt a pang for the fallen stormtroopers. He knew most were young recruits from poor communities, given a blaster and the most basic training before being shoved out to fight. They were often treated as expendable and easily replaceable – something even he had been guilty of. Perhaps if they’d been shown there were alternatives to the Empire…

There wasn’t time to reflect on what might have been, however. They needed to leave as swiftly as possible and get back to the spaceport. He’d hoped to just walk there, but with Zeb in his current state, they’d need to hijack a speeder. 

Andor ran ahead, still favoring his left leg, while Rex picked off the last few stormtroopers. In between, Kallus dragged Zeb through the halls, all the while putting up with the lasat messily kissing his cheeks and trying to grope him through the armor.

“What’d they give him?” Rex called from behind, sounding amused.

“I’m not sure yet,” Kallus replied.

“They should bottle it as a love potion,” Rex laughed. “I knew he liked you, but not this much.”

Kallus felt his cheeks coloring again. Rex’s comment meant nothing, not really. If Zeb cared for Kallus at all outside of this drugging, it was as a Rebel comrade. Nothing else was reasonable, considering their past.

He was glad, for Zeb’s sake, that it was him doing the rescuing. Kallus was private and circumspect; he wouldn’t let it get out to the entire Yavin base just how Zeb had acted. As far as he was concerned, they could both forget it as soon as the drugs wore off.

Out front of the Imperial Complex, another squadron of stormtroopers waited.

Andor waited for the others to catch up. Kallus burst out of the building with him, using as much of his body as he could to protect Zeb – though he felt laughably small next to the lasat – and they broke through the line of troopers.

Stepping into the street, Andor stopped a speeder and motioned for the group to climb in. While Rex and Kallus wrestled Zeb into the backseat, Andor explained to the driver exactly where he was going to take them and what would happen if he didn’t.

Kallus listened, his Imperial training impressed. Andor was just as cold – if not colder – than many ISB agents. _That_ was the sort of ruthless Rebel agent all Imperials had been taught to fear.

Jumping off his good leg, he landed in the backseat of the speeder, halfway sprawled across Zeb’s lap as the speeder took off. The driver dodged traffic and pedestrians, all with Andor’s blaster pointed at his side.

His helmet was pulled off and a heavy hand came down on Kallus’s forehead and Zeb started… _petting_ him? He looked up into wide green eyes that had just a little too much adoration in them. Zeb laughed, a small chuckle that sent warmth shooting through Kallus.

For a second, he wanted nothing more than to stay.

_I can’t, though. Zeb’s not in his right mind. I have to establish boundaries so he won’t be embarrassed later._

Kallus sat up, wedging himself on the bench seat along with Zeb and Rex. Wind rushed through his hair, drying it. He wished he could feel the air on the rest of his body; fighting the actual death troopers had left him sweaty and uncomfortable underneath the body glove.

The speeder slid into the spaceport hangar, where Hera had the ship powered up and ready.

Kallus, Andor, and Rex all three hauled Zeb out of the speeder, at which point the speeder driver took off, probably terrified. 

Zeb leaned on Kallus again, his arm wrapped tight around Kallus’s shoulders. Even through the armor and body glove, Kallus could feel the heat from Zeb’s body.

“Zeb!” said Hera, sounding exceptionally relieved. “Come on, get him in here, guys.”

Kallus half-dragged, half-walked Zeb into the shuttle. Before they even made it all the way in, Hera closed the ramp and lifted off. Kallus trusted her to evade any Imperial pursuit as expertly as she had always avoided _him_.

There was a ladder between them and the passenger seats, but Zeb was in no shape to climb and Kallus, for all his strength, wouldn’t be able to deadlift Zeb _while_ climbing a vertical ladder.

Choosing instead to lay Zeb down on the floor of the shuttle’s hold, Kallus collapsed next to him, exhausted from hauling Zeb around and from his fight with the death troopers. At some point, he would have to acknowledge the pain in his knee. It had been screaming at him for the last half-hour, but he was determined to make it to his bunk before admitting he was in pain, lest Hera send him back to the medbay.

Given Zeb’s behavior so far, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Kallus when Zeb rolled on his side and gathered Kallus into his arms – but it was.

There was another kiss pressed to his temple. 

“Zeb,” Kallus said. “Stop. You don’t mean this. You _can’t_ mean this.”

“Try me,” Zeb said, words still slurring together.

Kallus looked at the death trooper helmet where Zeb had dropped it on their way onto the ship. He should gather up the equipment so that it could be used again sometime. He should get up and do that right away.

But he was hurting, he was tired, and Zeb didn’t seem to want to let go of him anytime soon. Sighing, Kallus did what he could and pulled the gloves off his hands.

He’d worn gloves almost his entire adult life; they’d always been part of the ISB uniform. Going bare-handed seemed strange and vulnerable.

Kallus looked at his hands. White lines spread across them – the lightning patterns of his torture scarring over. It was highly distracting, both to Kallus at work and his curious coworkers in the desks around his.

Perhaps, when they returned to base, he could locate some gloves to wear on the regular.

A large purple hand grabbed at one of his. Kallus didn’t fight Zeb and the lasat began playing with his fingers. Zeb’s fur was shorter and stiffer on his palms and fingers, Kallus noted. He’d never noticed before because he’d always been in gloves.

Zeb pulled Kallus’s hand to his face and rubbed his cheek against it, the fur of his face soft and gentle.

“Zeb…” Kallus said again.

The only answer was a kiss pressed to the middle of his palm.

Kallus wrenched his hand back after that. Zeb was getting _too_ familiar, _too_ affectionate, and Kallus wanted to protect him from himself. It was obvious Zeb was unable to control his actions, so Kallus would have to do it for him.

Despite the pain in his knee, Kallus pulled out of Zeb’s grasp and stood up. “Come on, Garazeb. Let’s get you sitting against the wall.”

Zeb actually worked with him, and Kallus dragged him to the back on the hold, propping him up against a bulkhead just in time for Rex to come down the ladder.

“Here,” Rex said, holding out two plasteel flasks of water. “For you both. Got ration bars, too, unless you wanna wait for the real stuff at base.”

Kallus gratefully took the water and the ration bar. “Are we away from Axxila?”

“You didn’t hear the hyperdrive kicking in?” Rex asked. “We’re on our first jump. Hera’s making four total. Should be back on Yavin in five hours.”

Nodding, Kallus found he didn’t really have the energy to say much more. He bit into the dry ration bar to keep from having to talk.

Rex looked down at Zeb. “I’ll sit with him for a bit if you want a break. Cassian’s up there binding up the burn on his leg and I expect Hera will be back to check on Zeb in a few.”

Kallus studied Zeb for a moment. The lasat was still grinning goofily, though he was managing to drink his water without spilling it. 

A small, quiet part of Kallus wanted to stay and let Zeb hold him, as it would be his only chance to experience such a thing.

The larger, more rational side of him knew that was a _bad_ idea. Getting attached to Zeb as he was, drugged beyond belief, was asking for trouble.

“Thanks,” he said to Rex. “I’ll take you up on that.” Bracing himself, he climbed the ladder and found everything just as Rex had said: Andor doing first aid on himself and Hera making her way out of the cockpit.

Kallus collapsed into a passenger seat, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

“Kallus,” said Hera, her voice coming from very close by.

Peeking his eyes open, Kallus saw Hera was standing next to him. Exhaustion must have taken over for him to not have noticed. “Yes?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Cassian told me about you and the death troopers.”

Kallus shrugged. “It was part of the mission,” he said, as if he took on two of the Empire’s most elite – and won – every day.

“No, you could have decided the danger was too great. You could have aborted the mission as soon as you were discovered. But you pushed through and you got Zeb back. I owe you – _all_ the Spectres owe you for that. Our family isn’t complete without Zeb in it.”

 _Family_. That was right. Zeb had family to care about.

He didn’t need an ex-Imperial in his life.

Kallus unholstered Zeb’s bo-rifle, handing it to Hera. “He’ll want this.”

Hera nodded and moved on down the ship, sliding down the ladder to where Zeb was.

Kallus glanced at Andor, who shrugged. _He didn’t need to say anything,_ Kallus thought. _It was nothing Zeb wouldn’t do for any of us, even ones like Andor he barely knows. It wasn’t any more than Zeb did for me on Bahryn when he had every reason to hate me._

Closing his eyes again, Kallus spent the next five hours passed out asleep.

Andor woke him by repeating his name. “Kallus. Kallus. We’re almost back to Yavin.”

Kallus blinked and sat up, waking up instantly, though he had a lingering headache. “I’ll go down to help get Zeb off the ship.

“Don’t worry,” Andor said. “Hera has a medic and a bed waiting for him. Let them handle him.”

That made sense. “So you and I go see General Draven and report in?”

“I do. You go to sleep again, unless you need the medbay, too.” Andor eyed his bum knee suspiciously.

Kallus forced himself not to move to cover his knee. “I’m well enough to give a report.”

“I know,” Andor said. “But there’s no need for two of us, unless you know something about the mission I don’t.”

It was obvious arguing would go nowhere and Kallus _was_ exhausted still. Zeb was home, whole, and going to get the medical treatment he needed. There was nothing but a sense of duty keeping Kallus awake.

“In this instance,” Kallus said, “I will take you up on that offer.”

“Good.” Andor clapped him on a shoulder plate. “This mission wouldn’t have gone as well without you.”

Kallus shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Andor was giving him too much credit.

Less than half an hour later, Hera deftly landed the shuttle on the Yavin IV tarmac. True to Andor’s word, there was a medbay team waiting to take Zeb away, even though it was middle of the night, planetary time.

Kallus stood off to the side, out of the light of the ship and almost invisible in his black armor, and watched Zeb be lifted onto the bed. The lasat was no longer trying to lavish attention on anyone close to him, instead looking dizzy and out of it.

They floated Zeb off and Hera followed him, her astromech rolling behind her. Rex headed off to the right, presumably to his bed on the _Ghost_ , and Andor went to find Draven and give his report.

No one needed Kallus anymore. He didn’t have duty until his Intelligence shift started in the morning. He was utterly free to do whatever he wanted.

Of course, he wanted what he couldn’t have. He didn’t belong at Zeb’s bedside, sitting with him through the night. It would only embarrass Zeb to see him once he was sober again; Kallus didn’t intend to remind him of his behavior.

Kallus clenched his fist, still feeling Zeb’s lips on his palm. Something inside him burned, a deep yearning he first felt when he saw Zeb reunite with the Spectres on Bahryn. Something he couldn’t indulge.

Running a hand through his hair to try and get it out of his face, Kallus trudged off towards the secondary temple, where his quarters were.

Sleep first, then work. Lots of work, preferably, to take up all his spare time.

Anything to keep from accidentally running into Zeb again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wearing-gloves-because-scars idea originally came from WhiplashCrash, who generously let me steal her headcanon and claim it as my own.
> 
> Thanks to chocolatemudkip for the help with this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to vintaged for betaing this chapter!

Even before Zeb opened his eyes, he knew something had changed. For one, the air didn’t smell recycled; instead it was earthy and moist. For another, whatever he was lying on was too comfortable to be the bench in that Imperial cell.

And then there was the noise. People talking, droids chattering, machines beeping.

It was a fight, but he got his eyes open for a few seconds, long enough to register that he was in a medbay.

The Yavin IV medbay, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Zeb?”

Hera’s soft voice came from next to him and he felt a light touch on his arm. 

Zeb turned his face toward her and pried his eyelids open again, squinting against the bright medbay lights. “Hera,” he croaked.

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re home.”

 _Home._ Home was the _Ghost_ , not the Yavin IV base, but he wasn’t going to argue technicalities. “How?”

“How much do you remember?” she asked, frowning slightly.

Zeb almost said ‘nothing’, but realized that was wrong. He remembered a smell: salt and sweat, fear and exhilaration, musky and deep.

“Kal,” he said. “Kal was there.”

“And Rex and an Intelligence operative named Cassian. And me, once they got you back to the shuttle.” Hera placed a hand on Zeb’s brow, brushing his fur back in a gentle, almost-petting motion. “You were pretty drugged up. Maybe it’s good you don’t remember. The important thing is we got you back. The medics here patched up your burns and put you under until the drugs left your system.”

“Good I don’t remember?” Oh, karabast, he must have done something wrong. Had he talked to his interrogators?

Hera smiled again. “Nothing too bad that I saw. You were just very loopy and very affectionate.”

Zeb’s gaze rose to the ceiling. _That sounds embarrassing enough. What **didn’t** she see?_ “But?”

“But according to Rex, you were a little _too_ affectionate with Kallus.”

Zeb squeezed his eyes shut again. _What does ‘too affectionate’ mean?_ “Karabast.”

Laughing gently, Hera shook her head. Zeb heard a note of tension in her laugh, however. “You’ll have to ask Rex when he gets here. I’ve got a meeting with Draven in a bit to debrief Kallus.”

“Something go wrong?” he asked, arching his brows.

Hera looked a little sad. “Just some questions on the tactics Kallus chose to use to get to you. He’s… still very Imperial.”

Zeb frowned. “He’s had to be to survive. He’s only been out a week; it might take him a bit to adapt.”

“We know,” Hera said. “I’m not trying to get him in trouble, just to _think_ more like a Rebel.”

“What did he do?”

Hera glanced up and smiled. Zeb turned his head to see Rex entering his little curtained-off ‘room’. “I’ll tell you later, Zeb,” Hera said. “I’ve gotta go.”

Zeb watched her leave and then turned to Rex. “What happened?”

Rex sat down and leaned back in the chair. “What happened to the Imperials keeping you or what did you do? Both are pretty interesting.”

Groaning, Zeb covered his face with the one hand he was able to move – the other was too covered in monitors and an IV. “Just tell me, Rex.”

Rex grinned. “Okay, so…”

Kallus sat in Draven’s office yet again, feeling like a recalcitrant child called to the schoolmaster’s office.

He’d managed a decent night’s sleep, even a meal that morning, which put him ahead of the days after Zeb went missing. Just knowing that Zeb was on Yavin IV and safe in the medbay did wonders for Kallus’s nerves – a good thing, because he was currently nervous about the meeting.

Draven had _his_ boss, General Cracken, on holo. He’d been told they were waiting on a fourth person, but Kallus wasn’t sure who. In the meantime, Draven was walking Cracken through the setup to the rescue mission.

The two generals faced each other, arms crossed, serious expressions on their faces.

“So the extraction team faced two squadrons of stormtroopers, two death troopers, one ISB agent, and one Imperial colonel – all with Captain Andor’s injury being the only casualty?” Cracken asked, one eyebrow arched.

Draven nodded. “That’s a good summary, sir.”

“But it’s not the full story, is it?”

Kallus turned to see Hera walking in, an irritated expression on her face. He sat up straight, quashing his urge to ask her how Zeb was doing. Hera was obviously not here on a social call.

Draven gestured for Kallus to stand by the desk, where the holocam would pick him up. Hera stopped across the desk from him.

Cracken turned a little, looking at Hera. “And what _is_ the full story, Captain Syndulla?”

Hera wouldn’t meet Kallus’s eyes. “I was unaware that General Draven signed off on kill orders for the Imperials in that facility. I thought we were just rescuing Captain Orrelios.”

Draven smiled, thin and cold. “My understanding was that you supported getting Captain Orrelios back at any cost.”

“At _any_ cost? Who _are_ we if we stoop to such levels? We ought to be _better_ than that.”

“We’re in a war, Captain Syndulla,” Cracken said calmly. “People get killed. Would you prefer an Imperial die or your crewmate?”

Hera put her hands on her hips and glowered. “I would rather we not actually be the monstrous movement the Imperials accuse us of being.”

Cracken turned again, focusing on Kallus. “Captain, can you tell me _your_ thought process on this mission?”

Kallus managed to keep his face schooled. “I’m aware of Captain Syndulla’s preference for leaving enemies disabled rather than terminated, but Captain Syndulla was not in the Complex. I was. Captain Andor was. Captain Rex was. I was point man because of my familiarity with said facility, and I did not see a feasible way to leave enemies alive behind us and still manage the extraction with the casualty level we had.”

_There wasn’t a way to save Zeb without killing anyone. When I killed, it was efficient. It was quick. It wasn’t even that messy. How is that not an optimal mission?_

Hera stared through the blue holo of General Cracken straight at Kallus. “ _Captain_ , I understand you’ve had to live by the Empire’s rules for a long time, but we as Rebels cannot and _should_ not kill indiscriminately. The death troopers were trying to kill you, so that was justifiable. But the ISB agent? The colonel? Neither had a weapon on you.”

Draven and Cracken both looked down at Hera. “Captain Syndulla, do you know what sort of actions our Intelligence operatives are required to do on a regular basis?” Cracken asked, a note of condescension in his voice.

Hera’s eyes narrowed; even through the holo of Cracken, Kallus could see just how furious she was. “I _presume_ your operatives are trained to go unnoticed. Leaving bodies behind them seems somewhat obvious.”

Cracken blinked slowed, unperturbed. “My operatives are trained to get in, achieve the objective, and get out. If it’s safer for them to leave no witnesses, then so be it. Better for one or two Imperials to die than for the entirety of the Rebellion to be in danger.” He turned to Kallus. “In my opinion, Captain Kallus achieved the objective with an acceptable casualty rate. It was a successful mission on many metrics.”

Hera crossed her arms. “I’m not sure how many more Intelligence operations my people will be participating in from here on out. Not unless I can be assured I’m working with honorable beings.”

“You may not have a choice, Captain,” Draven said. “It depends on where the Council decides to send you.”

“My ship is still mine,” Hera argued. “My crew is still principled. We’ve worked alone before; we can do it again.”

Kallus felt an unexpected pang at Hera’s words. _The **Ghost**? Leave so soon? Leave me here when they’re the ones who saved me?_

Cracken laughed a little. “Don’t worry, Captain Syndulla. We aren’t trying to run you off.” He nodded to Hera. “We’re just trying to make sure you’re aware that as Rebels, we can’t always afford to be as _principled_ as you would like. There’s a war on and we’re outnumbered. The only way we can win is by using every advantage, every foothold we can grab onto.”

“And I say it isn’t worth winning if we don’t offer an alternative to the Empire’s actions.”

“Our leaders – the Council – define this movement’s morals,” Cracken said. “The rest of us don’t have that luxury. We do what we have to do to make their vision possible.”

Hera huffed, her glare not letting up. “ _No_. If we act like the Empire, even with the best of intentions, then we _are_ the Empire. What the Council says has no meaning if the least of us don’t live out the values we are supposed to represent.”

Cracken and Draven exchanged glances. “You’re very idealistic, Captain,” Cracken said. “I hope you don’t come to regret that idealism.”

Kallus recognized that Hera was being dismissed, but did Hera? He watched her closely.

Meeting his eyes, Hera said, “I’m grateful you saved Zeb, Kallus. But next time we work together – _if_ there is a next time – then understand I expect you to act a little more Rebel and a lot less Imperial. If you can’t attempt that, then there is no place for you on the _Ghost_ or with my crew.”

Kallus’s throat tightened. He still believed he’d made the right choices… he couldn’t stand having the Spectres abandon him, never seeing or working with Z– them again.

Hera saluted the generals and stalked out of the office.

Kallus stood up a little straighter as he became the center of attention.

Dismissing him as well, Draven handed him a little piece of flimsi. “Here is a list of items we need from the quartermaster’s office. I expect you to get _exactly_ what has been requested this time. There’s no excuse for anything else.”

With an Imperially precise salute, Kallus left the office. He glanced around to see if Hera was still in the vicinity, but didn’t see her. 

_Oh well. I can find out how Zeb is doing later. It’s not something I need to know right this moment. Besides, if he shares Hera’s sentiments then he doesn’t want to see me._

The chadra-fan was back in the quartermaster’s office when Kallus arrived. Inwardly, he groaned but set his face into a stern mask, one that would have sent Imperial subordinates skittering.

The quartermaster was unimpressed, however. 

Kallus scribbled one more item on the flimsi and handed him the list. “These are all being requested by General Draven,” he said lightly. “And if the quality of your items are not acceptable, then it’s him you’ll answer to, not me.”

It was strange, not being ISB anymore. In the Empire, he’d been outside the military chain of command, able to arrive on a scene and requisition any and all supplies he needed – up to and including whole ships and their crews. He’d stolen many a star destroyer’s command, leaving their admirals agape as he smirked. Crowds used to part before him, individuals quake at the sheer amount of power he wielded. Nothing but his own wits used to limit him.

The Rebellion was a bit of a come-down after that. He found himself with actual military rank, meaning he was expected to take orders instead of giving them, and surrounded by beings that really couldn’t give a rip what sort of authority he used to have. None of his past mattered – supposedly. That’s what Zeb had promised him.

He'd learned the hard way in a short time that it did matter, after all. 

It mattered to Rebels he’d once chased. It mattered to refugees whose planets he’d helped terrorize. It mattered to family members of suspected Imperial traitors he’d ordered imprisoned or killed.

They were right to hate him, Kallus knew. He’d done heinous things – and, despite defecting, his basic nature hadn’t changed. The mission to save Zeb showed that.

Hera didn’t want to work with him again and he couldn’t say he disagreed. She wanted her crew to follow certain morals and principles; he wouldn’t limit himself like that if someone stood between him and his objective. Their credos were at odds.

Kallus was fully aware that his ISB training colored his thinking and his strategy, but his Intelligence supervisors had found nothing wrong with his tactics.

Idly, he rubbed the back of his left hand, feeling the scars as he waited.

The chadra-fan returned with a bag, plopping it on the ground next to the desk. “Pick out the ones you want while I get your other stuff,” he said.

Kallus dug through the bag, looking for the last item he’d added to the list. It was a personal wish, not something for the Intelligence service, and he felt a pang of guilt over picking up such items while he was working, but it _would_ take the quartermaster some time to put together the rest of Draven’s list. Kallus could stand there and wait or he could find…

Gloves. The bag, a shapeless duffel, was full of gloves of all colors and sizes. He was hoping for a specific style – and there they were.

Clipped together, a set of large brown fingerless gloves.

 _Exactly_ what he’d been looking for.

Kallus pulled the gloves on and sighed. They fit as if they were made for him.

He flexed his fingers, looking at his hands, at his bare fingertips. It felt comforting to have gloves on – not only was he used to it, but between the gloves and the long sleeves and pants he wore, no one would be able to see the torture scars. No one would see even the memories of the vibroblades and hammers and lightning that danced across his skin.

No one would look at him with pity.

Keeping his fingers free, though… Well, that was a _kriff you_ at the Empire. Denying their servants the sensation of touch depersonalized them, monotonized them. At one point, he’d believed wholeheartedly that it was a wise policy, keeping troops and officers and support staff all in line, but no more. Kallus wanted to _feel_ things without a barrier.

_Like what Zeb’s lip would have felt like against my bare thumb._

Kallus blinked. He hadn’t meant to think that. He’d never get to answer the question and certainly would never bring it up to Zeb, so there was no point in thinking about it.

Looking down, Kallus focused on the gloves, adjusting the straps so that they sat more comfortably on his wrists. 

Hiding the damage and moving on; _that_ he could – and would – focus on.

It’d been nearly a week since the extraction mission and Zeb hadn’t seen Kallus. Not in the halls, not in the mess, not from across the landing tarmac as the man walked to his bunk.

For as much as Zeb worried Kallus was working himself to death, he was also a little glad not to see him. Life was easier that way; Zeb didn’t have to remember the things Rex told him he did and said.

Kissing Kallus on the face like that… that was saved for courting couples, not whatever Zeb and Kallus were. Comrades? Brothers in arms? Beings who tolerated each other? Zeb didn’t have the right words.

Then again, at the moment they were nothing. Kallus hadn’t visited him in the medbay. Hadn’t come to check on him while he was healing in the _Ghost_. Hadn’t cared.

It never occurred to Zeb to wonder _why_ Kallus or _if_ he wanted to name the thing between them.

Zeb was still weak and wobbly after his torture. He made himself stand tall and do his job, but he leaned against supply crates, ships, and bulkheads when he could. Hera, Rex, and the mechanics he worked with were all kind enough not to mention it when his legs faltered or a hand shook while trying to use a spanner.

The main hangar was full that afternoon and Zeb was following around the master technicians – two verpine named Gaxin and Kik – and an M-3P0 droid, as they checked the work he’d done restoring damage to a couple of the Y-wings.

Gaxin chittered something, reaching up to run an insectoid finger along a seam.

The droid turned to Zeb. “Master Gaxin says you lined up the seams admirably.”

“Does he?” Zeb rubbed the back of his head. He knew verpine were renowned mechanics thanks to exceptional eyesight, but he also knew his own skill. He didn’t need anyone to tell him he’d done well. “That mean I can go?”

The verpine chittered again, but this time Zeb didn’t need the droid to translate the affirmative.

Zeb was already walking away as the droid spoke. “Yes, Captain Orrelios, you’re dismissed.”

In one corner of the hangar, the mechanics had set up small lockers for their stuff. Zeb didn’t carry much – anything he wanted either fit on his back or in his belt pouches – but he did take off some of his armor to keep it from getting in the way while he worked in engines.

As he reattached his vambraces and knuckle guards, he felt someone pat his back. 

There was only one mechanic friendly enough with him to do that. “Jaci,” he said, nodding down at her.

“Hey, Zeb. How ya feeling?” she asked, ever-cheerful, as she opened her locker.

Zeb grunted.

“That great, huh?” Jaci turned and leaned against the lockers. “Are you still feeling bad from what happened or is it people trouble?”

 _How does she always know?_ Zeb held her gaze.

She nodded. “Kallus, then.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “It’s not always Kal, you know.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “But whenever you don’t want to talk about it, it is.”

Crossing his arms, Zeb watched her roll down her grubby white jumpsuit, revealing lighter clothes underneath. _Why do I always end up talking to her?_ he wondered.

_Because she keeps her mouth shut and she isn’t a Spectre who already knows everything about me._

“You haven’t told me what all happened on that mission and I don’t expect you to,” Jaci said, “but something changed you and I don’t think it was just the Imperials. And Kallus–”

“What about Kallus?” Zeb looked straight at her, aware he was too interested, telling himself he just needed to thank Kallus for getting him out of that Complex.

Jaci sighed and touched Zeb’s arm lightly. “I’ve barely seen him, but he seems different, too.”

Zeb wanted very badly to ask what she meant, but he knew it wasn’t his place. If Kallus wanted him around, he’d have made himself available.

Or would he? Zeb gulped, wondering if Kallus was waiting on _him._

“I think maybe I owe him an apology,” Zeb admitted.

Jaci shrugged. “Maybe. He didn’t tell me anything substantive. Could be worth a shot.”

Zeb eyed her. “Worth a shot for what?”

“Really?” Jaci laughed. “Come on, he talked about you in the medbay and I hear you were the first person allowed to visit him. In my book, that sounds like a friendship, one that’s worth trying to save.”

Humming thoughtfully, Zeb considered that maybe she was right. Kallus would still be at his desk, so perhaps Zeb ought to go pay him a visit.

Checking that all his armor was in place, Zeb set off through the Temple, down into the lower levels where the Intelligence service was headquartered.

Intelligence filled a quiet room. Only the shuffling of flimsi and the muffled high-pitched whine of datatapes disturbed the silence. Desks were paired off in an orderly fashion, organized into rows, with General Draven’s office along the wall nearest the door.

Zeb stopped in the doorway, scanning the room.

It was a delaying tactic. He’d zeroed in on Kallus – tall, blond, hard-to-miss Kallus – before he’d even stepped in the room. The human was at his desk on the far end of the room, facing Zeb’s direction, focused on a piece of flimsi.

It took a moment, but he looked up and locked eyes with Zeb.

From experience, Zeb knew Kallus was not as good at controlling his face as he liked to think he was. It was hard to miss the way he froze, eyes widening, when he saw Zeb.

For a long minute, they both stared at each other, waiting for the other to move. If he had his druthers, Zeb would have liked to see a wave – either welcoming or dismissing – if not hear some actual words acknowledging his presence.

Kallus seemed to have other ideas. He broke the gaze, turning back to his desk. Quickly and messily, he stacked the scattered pile of datapads on his desk and shoved them, along with some flimsi and styluses, into a locked drawer. Once his desktop was cleared, Kallus stood.

For a moment, Zeb thought – Zeb _hoped_ – Kallus was going to come talk to him.

That would have been too easy, too _expected_. Of course Kallus wasn’t going to do that.

Kallus avoided eye contact almost the entire way, only glancing up at Zeb the moment he approached, centimeters away from Zeb in the door. Dropping his eyes, he slid by Zeb without a word.

It was almost a perfect exit, but the doorway was too narrow for that. Their bodies brushed against each other: arms at first, a light touch, then Kallus’s coat dragged across Zeb’s chest.

Breath hitching, Zeb was left feeling shaky and weak again. He watched helplessly as Kallus hustled down the hall, losing himself in some stairs off to the side.

 _Why am I reacting like this?_ he wondered. _I feel like I tried to lift an A-wing and all that happened was that Kal ran off._

Obviously, Kallus didn’t want to talk to him. Drooping a little, Zeb went the opposite way down the hall, headed to the safety and isolation of his cabin on the _Ghost_.

Kallus stopped at the top of the stairs, out of the way of the flow of traffic. Breathing heavily, he rubbed at his temples, trying to will away the stress he felt after Zeb’s appearance.

Looking up and seeing the lasat had been a panic-inducing experience. A crushing pressure had filled his chest, making it hard to breathe.

 _Is he here to yell at me, too? Did Hera tell him what I did?_ Kallus had blinked, surprised at himself. _Why do I care so much what Zeb thinks when I know I did the right thing?_

Staying in the Intelligence room hadn’t been an option, not when Zeb could corner him in front of every. Neither had been talking to Zeb where he stood.

The only thing Kallus could think to do had been to run. To run right past Zeb and away from his desk, away from everyone who would judge him. But in doing so, he’d rubbed against soft purple fur, felt the warmth of Zeb’s body, seen the questions in those big green eyes.

Kallus shuddered, a breathless laugh. He was so keyed up that he was reacting irrationally. There was no reason being close to Zeb should have evoked such fear and shame.

No reason at all.

Before Kallus could gather his wits again, someone hustling down the hall shouldered him. He looked up, a glare instantly forming.

The person stopped and Kallus’s glare hardened.

It was Jael. Jael, who’d handled the intelligence for the Spectres’ last mission. Who’d screwed up and gotten Zeb captured. Who was the whole reason for the damned rescue mission in the first place.

Anger flashed in her eyes. 

“Don’t stand in the way like that, _Captain_.”

Her tone was absolutely disrespectful, inappropriate for a private to use on a superior. Kallus could easily write her up for insubordination. He itched to write her up for _something_ , but such things carried little weight in the all-volunteer Rebellion. When beings could up and leave as they wished, discipline became less and less effective. 

“Perhaps you should be more aware of your surroundings,” he snapped. “Isn’t it your _job_ to notice such things or are you as hopeless at that as you are on missions?”

Jael straightened up, her facial tattoos looking fierce beneath her hateful gaze. “I’m a Rebel, captain, unlike you. I am making the galaxy better while you? You murder and manipulate anyone who get in your way. You’ll always be ISB and _that_ makes you entirely unsuited to your position.”

Kallus stiffened. She had no right – _no right_ – to speak to him like that, as if he’d never been Fulcrum, as if he were still under Thrawn’s purview. It was bad enough hearing it from Hera, another ranked officer. “Do you have an issue with me being _former_ ISB?” he asked tensely.

Jael moved closer. “I have _every_ problem with it. If it weren’t for your ISB colleagues, my father would still be alive. My family would still be whole.”

Kallus’s lip instinctively twisted in a sneer. He almost snapped off a very Imperial response, but stopped himself. He didn’t have to pretend to support what the ISB did anymore. “Whatever happened to your father had nothing to do with me,” he bit out. “But Captain Orrelios’s time in Imperial custody had everything to do with _you_. Of the two of us, only one of us has helped the Rebellion in the past two weeks. The other almost lost it one of its best officers.”

Jael bit her lip and left without saying anything else.

Kallus huffed a laugh, knowing he’d hurt Jael with that last accusation. If she was a decent being, she was sorry for what happened to Zeb.

If Kallus were nice, he would leave her be.

But Kallus wasn’t nice, was he? That was why Hera didn’t want to work with him. That was why Draven and Cracken prized his skills. That was why he’d survived so long in the Empire.

He’d only been an official Rebel for two weeks, so he really didn’t know if there was a proper channel to handle his issues with Jael.

Kallus knew how an Imperial would handle it, however. He knew how ISB-021 would handle insubordination and ineptitude.

These Rebels wanted to believe he was still an Imperial?

He’d show them Imperial.

Zeb sat in the _Ghost_ ’s common room, staring at the dejarik table. He really wanted some guidance, but should he…?

He sighed. Hera was on Yavin and available to talk to, but she was still upset over Kallus’s actions on Axxila.

Besides, he really needed a deeper look at things.

Zeb flipped the switches on the table that turned it into a holocomm unit. He dialed in the _Gauntlet_ ’s comm codes, hoping he got someone, hoping he wasn’t interrupting anything.

Hells, he didn’t even know what time it was on Mandalore. He might be waking his missing family up.

“Zeb?” Ezra answered, mouth half full with food. Not the middle of the night, then. “You look like crap.”

“Gee, thanks, kid.” Zeb couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Is Kanan around?”

“Maybe.” Ezra took another bite of – noodles, it looked like – and chewed in silence.

Zeb took a deep breath. “Ezra, I need to talk to Kanan. _Alone_. Is he there or not?”

Ezra huffed. “Yeah. He’s outside talking to Sabine.”

They stared at each other. “Can you get him?” Zeb asked, trying not to show his irritation.

“I can.” Ezra didn’t move.

Zeb growled that time. “ _Will you go get Kanan and then make yourself scarce?_ Or I swear to the Ashla I will destroy every single thing you left in our cabin.”

“You could ask nicely,” Ezra said. “Don’t have to be a sleemo about it.”

Gritting his teeth, Zeb spoke deliberately. “Ezra, _please_ go get Kanan so I can talk to him.”

Ezra grinned and nodded. The blue holo image flickered as he exited. 

Zeb covered his face, squeezing as he did so, trying to swallow his frustration before Kanan showed up. He wasn’t going to get anywhere when it came to Kallus if he was angry.

Kanan appeared, a small masked blue bust in the holo field. “Zeb?” he asked, speaking more kindly than Ezra.

Zeb fought off a relieved sigh. “Kanan. How, uh, how’s things on Mandalore?”

“Busy,” Kanan admitted. “We’re in the midst of a civil war.”

“Just like out here but smaller, heh,” Zeb joked.

Kanan cocked his head. “Hera told us what happened,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

Zeb scratched at the back of his neck. “Gettin’ there. I’m mostly healed up.”

Silence met Zeb’s statement, but it was pensive, waiting, not petulant.

Talking to a Jedi – even if he was your best friend – meant you always ended up revealing more than you wanted to. Zeb sighed. “Still fighting some side effects from the drugs they gave me. Tremors and such. Medics say they may fade soon or may stick around forever. And I get nightmares. Kid doesn’t know how lucky he is to not be sharing bunks right now.”

Even with half his face obscured by the mask, Zeb could tell Kanan wore a sympathetic expression. He’d been tortured by Imperials before, after all, so he understood what Zeb had been through.

Zeb resolutely didn’t think about the fact that Kallus had been one of the Imperials to torture Kanan. That had been the _old_ Kallus.

“What’s really up, Zeb?” Kanan asked.

Zeb hesitated, second-guessing his decision, but ultimately he wanted Kanan’s opinion more than he wanted to be private.

“Did Hera tell ya what happened during the rescue?”

“She said she didn’t approve of how it went, but didn’t elaborate,” Kanan said.

Zeb nodded, even though Kanan couldn’t see him. “The problem is Kal.”

Kanan didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

“And, uh, me,” Zeb continued. “See, Kallus acted really Imperial during the rescue. Killed in cold blood. Hera says he didn’t need to, but one of the other guys on the mission, an Intelligence guy named Cassian, said he did. So I don’t really know which is true.”

“Trying to decide who to trust? Have you asked Kallus?”

Zeb laughed nervously. “Well, that wasn’t the end of it. ‘Parently whatever drugs they gave me _really_ loosened me up. And I kissed Kal on the cheeks. Multiple times.”

Kanan rocked back a little. “Zeb… That’s serious for you. Is that something you want with Kallus?”

Shaking his head, Zeb admitted, “I don’t know. I thought we were gonna be friends, but he’s avoided me since I got back. Ran away the one time we saw each other. So I think I scared him off.”

“Right. So both you and Hera are having Kallus problems.”

“I guess.” Zeb shrugged, the motion occurring naturally even though he knew Kanan wouldn’t be able to tell. “Kanan, you talked to him first after Atollon. I know you read him with the Force. Did– did we make a mistake taking him in? Can he change? Or would it be wiser to walk away from him?”

Zeb bit his lip waiting for Kanan’s answer, terrified of what the Jedi would say. Terrified of how he would react if Kanan told him to avoid Kallus.

Leaving him alone among Massassi Group seemed wrong to Zeb. Kallus needed a support group, didn’t he? If he would let Zeb in again, then maybe…

Maybe Zeb would figure out how he felt. Sort out the drugged up feelings and his sober desire to befriend the man.

Kanan thought for a while, but eventually spoke again. “I did read him that one time, but Zeb? You’ve spent more time with him than I have. You’re probably the better judge here.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Zeb said, a little desperately. “I’m caught between wanting to be his friend and worrying that he wants nothing to do with me. That Hera’s right about him and he might not be able to change.”

“Zeb, he’s already changed a lot. The Agent Kallus we picked up from that escape pod was not the Agent Kallus that chased us before you two got stranded together. Whatever happened to him, it was a positive change and _you_ helped kick start that.” 

“Yeah…” Zeb said, not sure if he agreed or not, though it sounded nice. Maybe too nice.

“Sounds like he’s got more changing to do. But he’s not going to do it on his own, not without a push. Maybe you need to be that push again.” Kanan paused. “When I read him, I could tell he had a genuine desire to fight the Empire. To be a better man. Maybe he needs you to show him the way?”

Zeb blinked, thinking. Kanan’s words made sense, sort of. But how could he show Kallus anything if the man kept hiding from him?

“I didn’t say it would be easy, buddy,” Kanan said when Zeb mentioned his worries. “But you’re stubborn and determined and a _good person_. If anyone can get through to Kallus, it’s going to be you.”

Zeb held his breath for a moment, taking in Kanan’s words. “Maybe I can,” he said finally. “I just have to start by pinning him down.”

Kanan smiled. “You’ve got to start somewhere. No handy ice moons this time, so you’ll just have to make your own.”

“Yeah…” Hope returned to Zeb’s heart as he started planning. “I can do that. I can definitely do that.”

 _Kallus isn’t gonna know what hit him. I’m gonna make him talk, gonna make him listen, gonna get him to start changing. If I can do that, Hera will be happy, Kallus will be better off, and I_ –

_I’ll have a friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [THIS CHAPTER GOT A COMIC](https://twitter.com/birdlets_/status/1304896003930120192)! Thank you to the amazing birdlets_/vintaged!


	5. Chapter 5

Kallus’s plan started subtly, in the same quiet, underhanded manner that had allowed him to progress as far as he had in the ISB. 

It was simple, really; even simpler than it had been to frame Lyste for being Fulcrum. Lyste had been too trusting, too eager for a mentor, but he’d still been part of the Imperial system. He’d _known_ the sort of backstabbing that occurred.

Jael, on the other hand, might have been vocal about disparaging Kallus, but she absolutely trusted her coworkers. She didn’t even lock her work desk at the end of the day.

It was almost nothing to get hold of her official datapad and make some edits to mission parameters.

Oh, Kallus didn’t change anything that would get Rebels killed – he simply altered enough that the missions would be failures. Delayed shipments, misestimations of Imperial strength, slight changes to hyperspace coordinates, that sort of thing. Errors that would be attributed to Jael and her intel. 

Errors that wouldn’t lead back to Kallus.

Over and over, Jael got called into Draven’s office to account for her mistakes.

Over and over, Kallus hid a smirk as she slunk back to her desk, cowed.

The first part of his plan was working. 

Unfortunately, his plan to completely avoid Zeb _wasn’t_ working.

The lasat kept appearing at the most inopportune times; he never entered the Intelligence room, but Kallus had to duck him in the mess hall, in the halls, even outside of his shared bunk in the second temple. That temple was solely devoted to housing and baths and since he had his own cabin on the _Ghost_ , Zeb had no reason to be _in_ that temple unless he was seeking out someone.

Seeking out Kallus.

Kallus quickly figured out alternate routes to the places he needed to be, eating at odd times, dashing through storerooms, and hiding in supply closets when he saw Zeb approach from a distance.

He knew he cut an absurd figure with all his attempts at subterfuge, but it was necessary. And it worked.

At least up until it didn’t.

Zeb scanned the mess hall, looking for a tell-tale head of golden hair. He didn’t really expect to see Kallus; the man was so flighty these days and blatantly obvious about avoiding him when Zeb did spot him.

It was a little disheartening, to think that he’d embarrassed Kallus _that_ much, but Zeb was on a mission.

A human with curly dark hair sidled up to Zeb. “He just went to shower,” the man said.

“What?” Zeb frowned. He vaguely recognized the human, but he wasn’t sure from where. “Who are you talking about?”

“Kallus. I’m one of his roommates. He just went to the shower; you can go pin him down there or in our bunk after if you’d rather.” The man grinned. “I’m Otto, by the way. Y-wing pilot.”

Zeb was suspicious. “You’re telling me this why?”

“Because he thinks he’s been discreet about his plans, but he really hasn’t been.” Otto shook his head. “Someone needs to talk to him. He doesn’t want to listen to us, so maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“What’s he been doing?” Zeb asked, eyes narrowed.

“He’s got a vendetta against one of his coworkers. We haven’t worked out who or why, but he’s deadly serious about it and I’m afraid it’s going to end with somebody getting hurt.”

 _Karabast! What’s he into now?_ Zeb nodded and immediately headed for the other temple.

Before he was out of earshot, Otto called out, “A thank you woulda been nice!”

Zeb shot back a glare and Otto shut up.

The main refresher facilities on Kallus’s floor were mostly empty when Zeb entered. Water – fresh from the river that ran near the base – flowed in three of the shower stalls, but Kallus was tall enough it was easy to see which stall was his.

Without waiting for Kallus to spot him, Zeb marched up to his stall and applied some strength, busting the door latch. The door thudded loudly as it hit the stall wall.

Completely naked, torso lathered up with soap, Kallus spun around, diving for his things – and his blaster. Zeb put a foot on top of the crumpled pile of his belongings, stopping Kallus from getting to his weapon. 

Zeb could see Kallus’s eyes widen as he registered that it was Zeb’s foot in his way. Surprisingly, Kallus didn’t try to cover himself like Zeb thought he’d do. Perhaps it was Imperial indoctrination, perhaps it was a natural lack of modesty, but Kallus stood up straight, looking Zeb in the eye, silently daring him to check out Kallus’s body.

Zeb held his gaze, glad Kallus didn’t know the extent of lasat peripheral vision. He took a step closer.

Kallus backed up against the wall. “Zeb, what are you doing?” he asked, voice sharp with warning.

Taking another two steps forward, until he was standing straight under the stream of water and completely blocking Kallus’s exits, Zeb _loomed_. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Kallus had the audacity to deny the fact. “I’ve been busy. I have work. This is _war_ , Zeb, not a _social club_.”

Zeb was aware that the other showers in the room had stopped. He was aware of his jumpsuit getting soaked and water splashing uncomfortably on his face, making his ears twitch. He was aware that the sight of Kallus naked was causing certain parts of his brain to light up.

He didn’t care. He just wanted Kallus to talk to him.

“It’s not a _social club_ , Kal. It’s basic sentient decency. We need to talk about that mission. And, I hear, we need to talk about what you’re doing right now.”

“What I’m doing–?” Kallus shook his head, dark strands of wet hair plastering themselves to his forehead. “Zeb, that is none of your business.”

“It _is_ my business,” Zeb argued. “It’s all of our business if you do something stupid and someone gets hurt!”

Kallus closed the gap between them, glaring the whole way. 

Zeb tried not to think about how he’d kissed Kallus’s cheeks before. Zeb tried not to react to the water running down Kallus’s body, or the fact that Kallus was partially erect – at least as far as Zeb was any judge of a human’s body. Zeb tried to ignore the phantom feeling of a thumb across his lip; he wasn’t sure if that last one had actually happened or not, but he’d dreamed about it.

If he focused on any of that, he’d be lost. He’d retreat and then who knew when he’d catch Kallus again?

Instead, Zeb focused on the ferocity in Kallus’s golden brown eyes, the tan spots covering nearly every inch of visible skin, and the way Kallus’s mouth was set in a pouting frown.

No, maybe he shouldn’t focus on that last thing.

“Kal, I’m sorry if what I did on Axxila made you uncomfortable. But you know I was drugged; _you’ve_ been under interrogation drugs, so I hoped you’d understand.”

“Axxila,” Kallus said, almost blandly. “That’s what this is about? Axxila?”

“Yes,” said Zeb, a little irritated at how blasé Kallus was. “Maybe you don’t know or maybe you don’t care, but what I’ve been told I did was not okay. Not in my culture, not in yours.”

“Which part was not okay?” Kallus asked, voice sharp and demanding. “The part where you wouldn’t stop kissing my face? Or where you groped me? Or maybe the way you completely invaded my personal space just like you are now?”

Zeb’s fur ruffled in embarrassment, even under the water. “All o’ that,” he said. “I wouldn’t’ve done it if I’d been in my right mind and I like to think you know that. But I can’t be sure because _you won’t talk to me._ ”

“What are we supposed to talk about, Zeb?” Kallus argued. “The many times we tried to kill each other? Bahryn? The flight here from Atollon where I was drugged? Or how about that nuclear warhead you sent back to the Imperial fleet without knowing if I was on the ship or not? What in our shared history is actually safe to discuss?”

Zeb gaped a little. He hadn’t expected Kallus to fight back like that. Biting his lips, he gathered his thoughts for a second.

“You’re a Rebel, Kal. Not an Imperial anymore. That means we talk about the future. We talk about hope and friends and family and a free galaxy.”

“Congratulations,” Kallus bit out. “Not all of us have those things. Some of us are here to be used and then discarded later.”

 _Discarded…?_ Zeb softened. “We aren’t the Empire. You won’t be ‘used and discarded’.”

Kallus huffed. “It’s a military movement. In the end, they’re all the same.”

Zeb reached out and grabbed Kallus’s bicep, right by some nasty looking scars that continued across to his stomach. Scars that looked eerily like lasat claw marks. “You don’t believe that or you wouldn’t be here,” Zeb argued. “You wouldn’t have risked your life to be Fulcrum if there wasn’t _something_ about the Rebellion that made it different from the Empire.”

Kallus looked down at where Zeb gripped his arm and spoke slowly and clearly. “Zeb, let go of me. I’m not mad about how you acted on the mission – like you said, you were drugged – but I _am_ getting mad about you interrupting my shower.”

“I’ll leave once you talk to me,” Zeb insisted, but he did drop his hand. 

“Will you leave now if I promise to talk to you _after_ I get dressed?”

Zeb considered it. “Normally, yes. But you’ve been actively avoiding me. I’m not letting you outta my sight until we talk.” He glanced at Kallus’s scars. “Where’d you get those?”

Kallus crossed his arms. “That is _not_ in the purview of our conversation. You want to talk about the mission, talk about the mission.”

“Rex told me some of what I did. Most of it was the drugs, but tryin’ to kiss your cheeks – that’s a lasat thing and I shouldn’t’ve done it unless you knew what it meant and we both agreed to it. And that’s not gonna happen, so I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” Zeb swallowed, finding himself wishing Kallus’s shower was a cold one instead. Maybe then the sight of Kallus completely bare wouldn’t make him _want_ to initiate courting – or at least some sort of sexual relationship. Didn’t have to be courting. Zeb could keep feelings out of it.

Really.

“I already told you I wasn’t upset about that.”

“But _I_ am,” Zeb said.

Kallus looked to one of the stall dividers. “You’re sorry you kissed me. All right, I forgive you. Is that it?”

“I wanted to say thank you for comin’ for me. Hera told me you spent all your time lookin’ until you found out where I was. You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to volunteer for the mission.” _I thought that might mean we were more than just acquaintances, but I see I was wrong._

A slight shrug of Kallus’s shoulder and he stared forward, into Zeb’s chest where dark fur showed through the thin, wet jumpsuit. “You Spectres did the same for me at Atollon, flying into the middle of the Star Destroyers to pick me up when you could have left.”

Zeb blinked. “So you’re sayin’ we’re even?”

“We may never be.” Kallus sighed and Zeb got the feeling he’d finally said something honest.

Zeb tried to reward that honesty with some of his own. “Well, know that I’ll always come for you, too.”

Kallus nodded, lips pressed together tightly. Zeb wondered if anyone had ever come looking for him before. The Empire hadn’t, on Bahryn. Were they even bothering to look for him now, as a deserter?

He wasn’t going to get an answer to that question now, though, so Zeb pressed ahead. “What’s this I hear about you and one of your coworkers havin’ a go at it?”

“‘Having a go’? Zeb, you make it sound so… so lascivious.” Kallus shook his head, falling back into a nonplussed mask. “I’m merely highlighting a subordinate’s unsuitability for her position.” 

“Is that for you to decide?” Zeb asked.

“I’m a captain. She’s a lieutenant. She may not report to me, but it is my duty to identify and point out inefficient and ineffective work.”

“Lieutenant?” Zeb had a sudden sneaking suspicion. “Kal, you’re not after Jael, are you?”

Kallus’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “Her bad intel endangered your team’s first mission as part of Massassi Group. It was a failure. I don’t want to see that happen again.”

“Kal,” said Zeb patiently. “It wasn’t Jael’s fault. It was a trap and we all fell for it. Bad intel could happen to anyone.”

“It shouldn’t have happened!” Kallus snapped. “You never should have been there, much less captured and taken to Axxila. You _never_ should have been put in that position. No Rebel, but especially not you.”

Zeb rocked back on his toes a bit. The vehemence shocked him. There was more to it than mere professional anger, he thought, hiding in Kallus’s voice. Curious, he crouched the few centimeters it took to look Kallus in the eyes. “Kal, don’t punish her because I got a bit roughed up. It happens. Like you said, this is war. I’m gonna get hurt. So are you. Why does it bother you enough that you want to go after Jael?”

Kallus wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We both know what happens to lasat in Imperial prisons,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t leave you there _knowing_ what they were doing to you.”

Thinking back to Bahryn, Zeb recalled saying something similar and Kallus laughing him off.

He _had_ changed, even if he was argumentative and trying to avoid Zeb. Kanan was right. Kallus just needed help to finish becoming a Rebel.

Zeb decided to push a bit more. “That why you killed those Imperials?”

“Can we have this conversation later?” Kallus asked again. “I’d rather not have you excoriate me in public.”

Zeb took a step back, trying his very best not to _look_ at Kallus, at least not under these circumstances.

He was a little late to avoid seeing all of Kallus – or to avoid seeing that Kallus was aroused – but he didn’t feel right _studying_ the man’s body and scars like he wanted to, not without Kallus’s explicit permission.

Kallus’s face, though, was set, the firm displeasure obvious despite the rivulets of water running down his cheeks. Zeb knew, looking at that expression, that Kallus would have continued to avoid him for as long as possible.

Drastic measures had been needed – and Zeb was good at drastic. Catching Kallus in the shower was possibly a step too far, but Zeb had only done what he’d needed to do and he wasn’t about to apologize for that. It was all Kallus’s fault, really. If he hadn’t _run_ from Zeb, they wouldn’t be there, in the shower, sopping wet.

“Swear to me that you’ll find me tonight after your shift,” Zeb said.

“I swear I’ll find you,” Kallus said, forcefully.

“No.” Zeb shook his head. “Swear on something that matters. I want to know you mean it.”

Kallus scowled. “My word isn’t good enough?”

“Right now? No,” said Zeb bluntly.

Kallus looked away for a moment, then met Zeb’s eyes again. “I swear on the _Boosahn Keeraw_. On the honor of the guardsman who gave me his bo-rifle. If you won’t trust my word, maybe you’ll trust his.”

Zeb didn’t know what he expected Kallus to swear by but it hadn’t been _that_. “All right,” he said. “But find me _right after_ your shift. I don’t want to have to track you down like this again.”

“Believe me,” Kallus said, “I don’t want that, either.”

Zeb nodded and turned, exiting Kallus’s stall quickly. He stood in the middle of the room, water puddling at his feet. He hadn’t thought things through when he stepped into Kallus’s stall – all he’d been trying to do was keep Kallus from running away again – but now he was soaked to the skin.

Looked like it would be a long, wet trek back to the _Ghost_ for some dry clothes and a rub-down with a towel.

 _And_ , he thought, closing his eyes and picturing Kallus just behind him, still naked, _perhaps a rub-down of another sort._

Kallus honestly intended to go find Zeb after his shift, but he needed to make a stop first. Draven had loaded him down with a stack of flimsi to scour through before the next day and he didn’t want to take that with him to meet Zeb. With luck, he’d be able to secure them in his footlocker and get out quickly.

Kallus’s luck didn’t run that way, however. Coryn and Zaarin, two of his three roommates, were in the bunkroom when he arrived.

Coryn, sitting on the bunk underneath Kallus’s, greeted him with a mischievous grin. A glance at the other set of beds showed Zaarin with a similar smile.

Kallus groaned. Better to face them head on than try to sneak by. It would only be delaying the inevitable. “What is it?”

“Heard you had some, uh, fun in the showers this morning,” Coryn said.

“More like a standoff,” Zaarin said. “A nice, wet standoff.”

“Tell us, was it as enjoyable as the gossip made it sound?”

Kallus glared at Coryn. “Do you believe every bit of gossip that goes around this base? Nothing happened.”

“I dunno,” said Zaarin. “If a big hunk of muscle like that Captain Orrelios wandered into my shower stall, I’d reach for the soap.”

Coryn laughed. “Thought you were more into horns, Z.”

“Oh, I am,” Zaarin confirmed. “But I still wouldn’t say no to a lasat. Hey, Kallus, if you’re not gonna go for it, would you put in a good word for me?”

Flimsi crumpled in Kallus’s hands as Zaarin and Coryn continued to make crude jokes. Throwing the flimsi in his footlocker, Kallus spun, facing Zaarin.

“Do _not_ talk about Captain Orrelios like that,” he snapped. “That man has been through more than almost anyone on this base and has managed to keep a good heart. He deserves better than someone who thinks he’s just– just an exotic fuck!

“That goes for you, too, Coryn. Keep your nose out of my private business – _especially_ where Captain Orrelios is concerned – or you’ll both have to answer to me.” Kallus narrowed his eyes and smirked, taking a perverse pleasure in threatening his roommates. It was oddly nice to be on the giving end of some pointed intimidation once again. “And believe me, the ISB taught me plenty of tricks I’ve been itching to use since I left.”

Coryn held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, look, we know you’re interested in the captain. It’s just teasing; you don’t have to take it so seriously.”

“I am _not_ –” Kallus stopped and took a deep breath. “I am not _interested_ in Captain Orrelios. We have a history – a _platonic_ history – and that’s all.”

“Fine,” said Zaarin. “We’ll leave you alone about the lasat if you stop talking about him in your sleep.”

Kallus fought back the embarrassed blush. He’d been a sleep-talker since childhood, since his family fell apart, and only the fact his ISB rank earned him a single room had saved him during his time as Fulcrum. He could have seen an Imperial psychiatrist about it at any point but he hadn’t wanted it to be on his record where it could possibly be used against him.

He knew he dreamed about Zeb, reliving the rescue and the open affection he’d received. He knew he would probably dream about Zeb under that shower spray – it’d certainly been memorable enough that Kallus had to deal with his arousal as soon as Zeb left.

But if he was _talking_ about Zeb, too, that opened some questions. That meant it was more than just an exhibitionist reaction.

Was he no better than Zaarin, imagining Zeb for his own titillation and satisfaction? How could he argue for Zeb to receive better treatment from others when he’d been all too willing to jerk off to the thought of Zeb standing so close to him, of Zeb seeing him laid bare?

What made _his_ circumstances so different?

Kallus locked his footlocker and fought the urge to kick it in frustration. Without saying another word – no sense encouraging his roommates – he left, winding his way through the smaller temple out to the landing field.

The tarmac was quiet in the uniquely bright twilight that came with having both a sun and a gas giant like Yavin sending light to the moon. Everything was tinted orange, a sunset haze that suffused the air.

Taking a deep breath, Kallus wound his way through the maze of ships until he found the _Ghost_.

Zeb was sitting out front in that absurd wicker chair of his, the small music player beside him piping out some song heavy on the synthtone. 

He almost looked relaxed.

“You came,” he said, eying Kallus. “Figured I’d have to hunt you down again.”

“I keep my word,” Kallus said tightly.

“Wasn’t your word I was worried about,” Zeb said. “It was your willingness to face up to your past I doubted.”

Kallus’s jaw dropped. The _nerve_ … “Willingness to face my past? Orrelios, what do you think my defection was? A whim?”

Laughing, Zeb asked, “So we’re back to last names, are we?”

“We are if you’re going to continue to impugn my honor.” Kallus crossed his arms, regret dancing at the edge of his mind. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come to talk. Perhaps he should have just let Zeb think he didn’t keep his word. He didn’t have to stand here and listen to the lasat doubt his loyalties.

Zeb stood, gesturing for Kallus to calm. “Kal, I’m not sayin’ that. I’m just sayin’ you’ve been skittish since you got here. What’s a guy got to do to talk to you? Catch you in the medbay? Get captured? Trap you in the shower? You’re not leavin’ me a lot of options here, mate.”

Kallus’s cheeks reddened at the mention of the shower and he had to blink back images of water soaking that soft purple fur, deepening the already rich colors of Zeb’s body. _No, can’t think of that. Zeb wants to lecture me, just like Hera. There is no room in his life for my desires._ “I’m here, aren’t I?” he recovered. “What more do you want from me, Zeb?”

“I wanna know what you were thinking,” Zeb said. “You coulda disabled most of those Imperials guarding me; I know how you fight. But you killed them instead. Why?”

Kallus eyed him dubiously. “Planning to chastise me like your Captain Syndulla, Zeb? As I told Hera and Generals Draven and Cracken, it was the most efficient way to get in, get you, and get out. And, except for that blaster burn of Andor’s, it worked perfectly.”

“Kal, that’s… really Imperial of you,” Zeb said slowly. “Come on, you chased us for years. When did we ever kill if we didn’t need to?”

A harsh laugh escaped Kallus’s lips before he could stop it. “When did–? Zeb, do you not know the destruction you Spectres leave in your wake? Stormtroopers and hangar personnel sucked into the vacuum of space or left lying on the side of the road because you shoved them out of a transport? Facilities damaged irrevocably? Whole Interdictors and Destroyers blown up or otherwise demolished? Do you know how many times your actions came close to indirectly killing me? I don’t, because I had to stop counting!”

Zeb’s ears flattened and he hunched over a little as Kallus spoke, but Kallus didn’t slow down.

“Or do you know how many personnel even the smallest Destroyer carries? Close to fifty thousand people, much of them non-combatant support staff. Me killing ten people while trying to save you is _nothing_ compared to what you have done.” Kallus shook his head and sighed. “I was right when I said the _Ghost_ crew was a menace to society. I see now that you’re a necessary menace with a benevolent purpose, but don’t delude yourself that your hands are cleaner than mine.”

“Killing’s not our first resort.” Zeb spoke quietly, regretfully. “If I was tryin’ to save you, I mighta killed those Imperials, too. But I’d have tried something else first. Maybe even two somethings. _That’s_ what I’m trying to point out. _That’s_ what I want you to think about.”

_Ah. Another ‘ask questions and chase the answers, Agent’._

Kallus noticed Zeb was flexing his claws, probably unconsciously. They were sharp and caught the setting planetlight, making Kallus shudder. He remembered all too well the feeling of lasat claws tearing through his armor and his flesh. 

Kallus realized he’d been making a huge mistake when it came to Zeb, one he hadn’t made as an Imperial. Because Zeb had saved his life, because Zeb had shown him kindness, because Zeb had made overtures of friendship, Kallus thought of him as _safe_. Tame, even. 

In reality, that wasn’t Zeb at all. He was an elite warrior from a culture of warriors, powerful and dangerous even without weapons. At any moment, he could rend Kallus – for all his human strength and martial prowess – limb from limb.

Zeb was simply _choosing not to_. He was showing Kallus care and vulnerability instead.

Kallus knew he ought to act on that care and vulnerability and take what was being offered him. Onderon had taught him what the alternative might be. 

Looking up again, Kallus saw Zeb watching him cautiously, as if _Kallus_ was liable to lash out. He almost laughed at the absurdity of their positions: they weren’t enemies any longer – all that had happened between them made sure of that – but neither were they truly comrades and friends. From where Kallus stood, they could easily tip either direction: animosity or good will.

It all depended on how he answered Zeb’s prompt.

“I don’t apologize for what I did,” Kallus said, “but I can endeavor to find alternate means of removing threats if it would make you happier, Garazeb.”

Zeb blinked. “You said that right,” he said, sounding surprised. “None of the others can pronounce my name right, but you did.”

“Garazeb?” Kallus repeated, the light roll of the r falling easily off his tongue. Zeb didn’t need to know the hours he’d practiced that as Fulcrum, preparing for the impossible chance he’d escape and meet Zeb again. Or that he’d called him by his full name multiple times during the rescue operation, but Zeb had been too drugged to remember. “It was in your file that way.”

“Huh. Imperials got _something_ right for once.” A small smile spread across Zeb’s face. “I like it, even if you still sound like a kriffing Coruscanti.”

“I happen to _be_ a ‘kriffing Coruscanti’,” Kallus reminded Zeb.

Zeb reached out and landed a heavy hand on Kallus’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Yeah, ya are. But you’re _our_ kriffing Coruscanti now. Just gotta get you trained up right.”

Kallus prickled a little at the idea he needed more training to be a Rebel, but the camaraderie Zeb was suddenly showing was… well, it was nice. Kallus wanted more of it; if he’d known all it would take to please and distract Zeb was to say his full name, he’d have done that back in the shower. Maybe then the encounter would have ended more pleasurably rather than with Zeb storming off.

_Our. He said ‘our’, Alexsandr. Not ‘my’. Stop thinking like this._

For a moment, they stood there, eyes locked, Zeb’s hand a warm weight on Kallus’s shoulder. Kallus held his breath, waiting to see what Zeb did next.

He dropped his hand, it turned out. “Just keep thinkin’ about stuff, Kal. And stop avoiding me. You work too hard and someone needs to make sure you take your breaks ‘n all.”

The edges of Kallus’s mouth twitched. “I do the work that is needed. It’s what I’m good at.”

“Yeah…” Zeb agreed, letting the word trail off into the twilight. He looked at the sky. “Speaking of, you better be getting back to your bunk. Don’t want to make you miss sleep.”

“Yes, Captain Orrelios,” Kallus said wryly, desperately trying not to think of the dreams he would likely have once he managed to fall asleep. Once he dealt with his moronic roommates.

Zeb’s grin widened. “Off with ya. I’ll find ya tomorrow, Kal.”

“Until tomorrow, then, Garazeb.” Kallus couldn’t help using Zeb’s name once more, just to see Zeb’s smile reach his eyes.

They’d tipped toward good will, then, Kallus thought as he walked back across the tarmac. 

Good. He’d much rather be friendly with Garazeb Orrelios than remain on his bad side any longer. Friendly was hopeful, like Rebellions were supposed to be.

Zeb might just turn him into a proper Rebel after all.


	6. Chapter 6

“Have you double-checked that data?” Kallus asked. His voice was deceptively light, eyes betraying nothing but honesty as he watched Jael from across the briefing table. 

He knew her data was wrong. He hadn’t even had to do anything this time; the mirialan was so flustered about her work as of late that she’d made calculation errors solely on her own. Kallus just needed her to commit to the data she had so that she’d be the sole one to blame when the Rebel freighter pilot missed the rendezvous point with the smuggler carrying food supplies.

Jael glared at him, obviously miffed. “Of course I did, captain. Would you like to triple-check my numbers?”

Kallus considered his answer. If he said yes and ran the coordinates through his datapad right then, it would be a public humiliation for Jael. On the other hand, if he said no, he continued to let herself lead the way to her own demise, with his intervention much less obvious.

He grinned; not the pleasant expression of a helpful friend, but the smile of a predator with prey in its grasp. “I’m sure you’ve got it, lieutenant. I wouldn’t want to give anyone the impression that I’m second-guessing your hard work.”

Jael flushed, reddening skin contrasting sharply with her dark tattoos. She knew he’d been messing with her data, Kallus was positive, but she had no way of proving that. The slicing skills he’d learned in the ISB had so far served him quite well in his mission to bring the woman down.

Kallus’s smirk faltered as he heard Zeb’s voice in his head from the week before: “ _Kal, don’t punish her because I got a bit roughed up… Why does it bother you enough that you want to go after Jael?_ ”

 _Why, indeed?_ Kallus wondered, his mood souring. _I may be letting Zeb ensure I take a dinner break every night, but I’m still just a chore to him. A complicated, messy, unwanted chore; he’s simply too kind to go back on his word_.

They had been eating dinner together every night for the past eight days, ever since their confrontation in the showers. Zeb would show up outside the Intelligence door after his shift with the mechanics and that would be Kallus’s cue to lock everything up and walk to the mess hall with him. Zeb always smelled of oil and grease and that pungent musky scent that meant _lasat_ , so people gave them a wide berth, but Kallus didn’t mind. It all smelled like _Zeb_ and made warmth pool in Kallus’s belly.

Which was a problem, Kallus knew. He’d been wrestling with the pull he felt toward Zeb. Wrestling with the intimate dreams he’d had. Wrestling with the arousal he felt every time he entered the showers and the things he imagined Zeb doing while he got himself off. Wrestling with his own motivations for wanting to touch and be touched by Zeb.

The easy answer was that he was attracted to Zeb.

Life wasn’t ever that easy, however, so there was obviously more to it. Kallus had done unforgivable things to Zeb. They’d been enemies for their entire adult lives, even if they hadn’t known each other until Kallus got reassigned to Lothal three years before. Was his attraction the lure of the exotic? The taboo of sleeping with someone who’d tried to kill you?

Kallus honestly wasn’t sure anymore. He wanted to ascribe pure motivations to himself – _I like Zeb for being **Zeb** and nothing more_ – but he wasn’t a pure person. He never had been and he never would be. Purity was so far beyond his reach; it would be a mistake to assume his motivations could be anything but corrupt.

Kallus’s time in the ISB had seen to that. He’d been twisted into a tool rather than a person, a tool both the Empire and the Rebellion found useful. He’d always be the vibroblade in the dark for whatever cause he served, ready to take down enemies and dissenters alike before being tucked back away, out of sight – or dropped when he became inconvenient or dulled.

He blinked, realizing he’d fallen silent and the members of his small briefing were all watching him.

Kallus straightened, locking away all thoughts of Zeb, and hit the button on the holoprojector. A modified Corellian YT-2400 freighter floated above the table. “This is what you should find at your rendezvous. The ship will be broadcasting under the name _Far Cry_ for the purposes of this mission. Your contact should be the pilot, a single human male. He’s helped us before and is generally trustworthy, but will want the credits up front. Be prepared to stand your ground: half when you dock, half when you finish loading the cargo onto your ship.”

Outlining the mission was simple – the mission itself was simple – but Kallus knew it was pointless. The Rebels wouldn’t connect with this smuggler, not unless both the smuggler and the Rebel pilot were clever and caught onto the incorrect hyperspace calculations.

Still, Kallus completed the briefing by being as detailed as he normally was, giving off no indication that he knew of anything suspect. He dismissed everyone and cleared the data from the holoprojector – a safety precaution in case it had to be left being in an evacuation. It took a few minutes for the old machine to flush its memory, so he was alone by the time it finished.

Or so he’d thought. Kallus turned around to find Draven standing in the doorway, looking displeased.

Really, that wasn’t anything new. Draven stayed stern and unforgiving with most people – the one regular exception Kallus knew of being General Antoc Merrick – but Kallus wasn’t sure what he’d done recently to warrant a visit from Draven.

“General,” he said, standing tall and straight.

“My office, captain,” Draven said simply, before walking away.

Kallus gathered his things, sliding his datapad into its slot on his belt and taking long strides to catch up with Draven.

By the time they reached Draven’s office, he was right behind the general. While Draven made himself comfortable at his desk, Kallus stood at attention in front of it, mind racing, trying to determine what errors he might have made.

_Maybe it’s Zeb. Maybe I’m getting too friendly with him. Maybe me taking off for dinner every night is affecting my performance. Draven probably expects more work out of me._

“Captain,” Draven said. “You may have a seat.”

If he was being offered a seat, this wasn’t an official reprimand. Kallus was even more confused about why he’d been summoned, but he sat down as instructed.

Draven leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. “Can you explain to me why you’ve been sabotaging a colleague’s work for two weeks now?”

Kallus blinked. “Sir?” _Karabast,_ he thought without even realizing he thought it.

“Kallus, you’ve been changing Jael’s work after hours. Don’t insult me by trying to deny it. I’m also not interested in any sort of confession; I want to know _why_.”

 _How does he know? Where did I mess up?_ “Sir, I–”

“No excuses, captain.”

Kallus shut his mouth again, biting back the defensive argument he’d been about to give. When he spoke next, it came out clear and calm despite what he felt inside. “General, I have had serious concerns about the lieutenant’s competence almost since I arrived. I was merely trying to make sure others saw her ineptitude as well.”

“At any point did you consider coming to _me_ with your concerns or did you jump straight to backstabbing?” Draven didn’t wait for an answer. “Captain, I appreciate that you’ve spent most of your time in the Empire and are used to doing things a certain way. Many of our other defectors find themselves struggling at first after they join us, as well, but you need to remember you’re in the Rebellion and we do things differently here.”

“Sir.” Kallus tensed a little more, wondering if he _ought_ to be standing at attention for a dressing-down.

“I know that in order to rise as high as you did in the ISB, you had to take down colleagues as well as perform expertly in the field. That is not how the Rebellion works, though. Here, you need to work _with_ your colleagues, not _in spite of_ them, especially if you want to see action outside these offices ever again.” 

Draven’s voice managed to be stern without being cutting, Kallus noted. How many times had he needed to give a similar speech?

“We’re allies in this department, not competitors for scraps of glory,” Draven continued. “We make hard calls here, ones the rest of the Rebellion would be horrified at, but we need to make them because they _keep the most people safe_ – our people and innocents both – not out of any emotional response. There’s no place for revenge or cold-bloodedness or even a casual disregard for Imperial lives. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Whatever is going on between yourself and the lieutenant, I expect it to stop. It’s not becoming of a captain, it’s not becoming of _you_ as a person.” Draven paused for a moment. “If this is about Captain Orrelios, I expect you to figure that out as well.”

Kallus sputtered. “Captain Orrelios? General, I don’t know–”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Kallus.” Draven rubbed his temples then sat up. “I want you to get out of the temple for a while, so I’m sending you on a short mission.”

“Another mission?” Kallus thought quickly. What missions were being planned? Where would he fit in?

Draven tapped at his datapad a few times and the pad at Kallus’s side dinged. “I’ve just sent you coordinates for another Massassi temple a few kilometers from here. High Command wants to expand and disperse some of the hangars, so we need to know which sites are suitable. You’ll inspect this temple for us. Take your time, explore it properly, and then bring back a report tonight. Take someone with you, if you want.”

Kallus recognized the ‘mission’ as simply a way to get him away from Jael, probably while Draven talked to her, and as a chance for him to think about Draven’s lecture.

Perhaps that wasn’t a bad idea. Time alone, away from coworkers and roommates and lasats that didn’t know when to give up. Time focused on something useful to the Rebellion, without the high stakes of most of the missions he planned.

Nodding, Kallus stood. “I’ll get on that right away,” he promised.

Draven dismissed him casually.

Walking through the halls, Kallus gave serious thought to walking to the temple – it was only five kilometers away, not a terrible distance – but decided to borrow a speeder bike instead. It would be more efficient and there would be no chances of walking back alone in the dark.

Of course, he was recognized as soon as he walked into the vehicle pool.

“Fulcrum!” Jaci broke into a grin as she waved. She closed up the speeder she was working on and sauntered over.

Kallus nodded at her in greeting, but his eyes were drawn further into the cavernous room, to the shadows where he could make out a large, familiar lasat-shaped figure working on another bike. “Hello, Jaci. I need a speeder,” he said, trying to keep conversation as succinct as possible.

“Uh-huh.” She leaned against a tool chest, grinning at him. “Whatcha need it for?”

Pulling out his datapad, Kallus showed Jaci the document Draven had sent him – coordinates and a brief mission description.

Jaci didn’t look at the datapad, keeping her eyes on Kallus instead. “So, something official, then?”

Kallus frowned. “Of course it’s official. What else would I need a speeder for?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes people just need to go out in the jungle and get away. Sometimes multiple people need to go together.”

Frowning deeper, Kallus forced himself to look at Jaci rather than at Zeb. “Jaci, what are you implying?”

“Nothin’,” she said. “Just checking. Wanna make sure you get what you need. So, just one speeder, then?”

Kallus nodded, breathing deeply and trying to relax.

“Hey, Zeb!” Jaci called, turning a little so Zeb could hear her better. “Fulcrum here needs a speeder. Which one you wanna give him?”

Zeb stood up so quickly it was almost humorous. It took him a moment to move, but he wound his way through the parked speeders, coming to a stop by a newer model. “Here ya go, Kal,” he said, placing a hand on the seat.

“Bye,” said Jaci lightly as Kallus walked toward Zeb.

Their eyes locked and Kallus had to focus not to stumble. The closer he got, the more of Zeb’s features he could make out, and he found himself staring at Zeb’s mouth. The lasat wasn’t quite smiling – but it definitely wasn’t a frown either. 

Of course, what really got Kallus’s attention was Zeb’s lower lip. Memories of Zeb in that Imperial Complex rose to the surface: the drugged-yet-eager look in those big eyes, the way the skin of that lip had tugged lightly at Kallus’s gloves, Zeb’s defiant “Try me.”

Kallus bit his cheek to force himself back to the present. It was good Zeb didn’t remember anything from that mission; things were complicated enough as they stood.

“Where ya goin’?” Zeb asked as Kallus neared.

“Another temple to do an inspection,” Kallus said.

Zeb’s brow furrowed. “You’re goin’ alone?”

Kallus nodded. “I wasn’t assigned a partner.” _Although I was told I could pick one._

“Alone,” Zeb repeated. “To a temple that might have who-knows-what livin’ in it.”

“I have a blaster, Garazeb,” Kallus pointed out. “And if anything’s living in there, then I’ll simply mark the temple as unfit for our purposes and leave.”

“Kriff that.” Zeb waved at Jaci, a large, nearly violent gesture. “I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Kallus said quickly.

“Someone’s gotta keep you from doing something stupid,” Zeb pointed out. “Guess that’s me.”

“Aren’t you needed here?” Kallus cast around for some sort of excuse.

“Not really,” Zeb said. “It’s all under control today. See? Jaci says it’s fine.”

Kallus looked over his shoulder to see the other mechanic giving them a thumbs up. Closing his eyes, he sighed.

He was supposed to be going out to the temple to clear his head. To think. If Zeb joined him, neither of those things would happen.

_But it **would** be wise to have backup in case I run into anything in the jungle or manage to injure myself._

“Fine,” he said. “You can come.”

Zeb grinned and stepped back from the speeder.

Kallus swung his leg over the seat and studied the speeder’s controls; they seemed pretty standard. Before he could start it up, the speeder dipped low as Zeb sat on the passenger seat and scooted up against Kallus’s back.

“What are you doing?” Kallus asked, voice almost as tight as his grip on the handlebars.

“No sense wastin’ fuel when we can share. These new ones can handle our weight.”

Kallus groaned, an ache already forming in his chest. _Just what I needed. Zeb up close and personal again._

Rather than say anything, Kallus turned on the speeder and eased out of the vehicle pool, pointedly ignoring Jaci and her cheerful grin.

He could do this. He could use the ride to the temple to contemplate what Draven wanted him to understand and then he would be level-headed before he needed to talk to Zeb again.

It would all work out.

Zeb had been very careful to keep his hands on the speeder or on his own thighs the entire ride out to the temple, but as Kallus applied the brakes, he couldn’t help but grab onto the human’s waist for balance.

Kallus stiffened and Zeb knew he’d made a mistake. Kallus obviously didn’t want Zeb’s hands on his body.

It was a mistake for him, as well, because feeling Kallus’s toned abdomen tightening beneath his fingers sent a rush of heat through Zeb. Faint memories of grabbing Kallus like that before, of wrapping his hands around that slender waist, surfaced; he must have held Kallus that way while he’d been drugged. 

As soon as they were stopped, Zeb dropped his hands and muttered an apology.

Looking up at the temple, Zeb wasn’t too enthused about their chances of being able to use it. Vines draped thickly down the angled sides, undergrowth peeking up from each wide step. It looked every bit the abandoned ancient temple it was.

“Ya sure Draven said _this_ place?” Zeb asked.

Kallus huffed, sliding off the speeder and straightening his coat. “I _can_ navigate to a set of coordinates, Garazeb. No matter what you think of the Empire, they did manage to teach us basic skills in the Academy.”

 _Taught you other things, too, didn’t they?_ Zeb thought sourly. He forced a grin. “So tell me what we’re lookin’ for, Kal.”

Kallus rolled his eyes, but patiently explained Draven’s instructions again.

“Huh.” Zeb leaned against the bike. “Doesn’t look like much.”

“I imagine the temples we’re in didn’t look like much when the Rebellion cleared them for bases,” Kallus said.

Kallus’s voice was tense, more than it usually was. Zeb didn’t even need to sniff the air to know the human was scared and stressed; he’d smelled it the entire way there. It was a strong scent, stronger even than it’d been on Bahryn, though Zeb was willing to allow that the cold and wind might have dampened his senses.

_What’s bothering Kal? Karabast, it’s me, isn’t it? I shouldn’ta come._

Zeb wasn’t sure what had come over him, except that he’d felt a certainty telling him to follow Kallus. Maybe that certainty came from his brain, picking up on Kallus’s quiet distress. Maybe it came from… somewhere else.

Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Zeb and Kallus were both out here, kilometers from base, alone. Maybe it only mattered _what_ happened next, not _why_.

Kallus shrugged a cross-body satchel on and dug out a glowrod. “Let’s see what this temple looks like,” he said. He almost sounded normal, but Zeb picked up on the slight waver in his voice.

Zeb followed as Kallus approached carefully, stepping over plants and roots and dodging vines hanging from the huge Massassi trees. Zeb reached out to balance himself against a rock, fallen from the temple structure, that was covered in moss.

“Careful!” snapped Kallus, whipping around. “Don’t touch that!”

Zeb stopped, hand hovering over the rock. “What, is the moss dangerous?” he joked.

Kallus was not amused. “That’s grenade moss, Garazeb. If it gets caught in your fur and dries, it could burn you.”

“Huh,” Zeb repeated. “They told us to watch out for it but not what it looks like. Hey, should we gather some to take back to the commandos?”

“No.” Kallus shook his head. “Best just to leave it alone and let them deal with it if they decide to use this temple.”

“Gotcha.” Zeb picked his way through the undergrowth carefully.

Every step they took brought them closer to the temple – and every step they took, Kallus’s shoulders tensed a little more. Stress smell was coming off the man in waves.

Stepping into the shade of the temple, Zeb had to pull up short. Kallus was stopped right in front of him, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” Zeb said carefully. “You okay, Kal? We can always explore later if now’s not a good time.”

Kallus spun, looking angry everywhere except his eyes. There, Zeb saw despair. “You were right, Garazeb. _You were right_. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Right about what?” Zeb asked, watching Kallus closely. There’d been so many things they’d talked about that week, it could be almost anything.

“The Rebellion _is_ different and I saw that before I left the Empire.” Kallus sighed and supported himself against a temple wall, avoiding Zeb’s eyes. “The Rebellion isn’t just an alternative to the Empire, another tyrannical government to replace the one we’ve got.”

That was not what Zeb had expected, but it thrilled him, hearing Kallus admit those things. “No,” he agreed. “The Rebellion cares about _people_ , not order.”

“It’s a radically different approach,” Kallus said quietly. “And I’m sorry I insinuated otherwise.”

In shock, Zeb leaned down a little, trying unsuccessfully to catch Kallus’s gaze. “Did– did you just apologize for something, Kal? I wasn’t sure you knew the words.”

Kallus scowled. “Kriff off, Orrelios.”

“Karabast.” Zeb reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping the human from walking away. “Kal, I didn’t mean it like that. It was a stupid joke.”

Kallus wrested his arm from Zeb’s grip, hard enough Zeb thought it might leave bruises. “No, it wasn’t. I know where I stand with your people and I’m not an equal. I’m the defector, someone who has useful skills and knowledge that they can exploit. I’m the one they send in when they need to cut through an Imperial facility and rescue someone.” Kallus turned his back on Zeb. “I’m never going to fully be a Rebel, no matter what I feel in my heart. I’m not trusted enough.”

“Kal…” Zeb breathed, eyes wide. He wanted desperately to reach out for Kallus again, but he stayed his hand.

Kallus turned around slowly and Zeb saw the moisture in his eyes. His posture was still tense, as if he’d run away any second. “They’re right, Garazeb. I shouldn’t be trusted. I’ve been an Imperial since the Empire was formed. A Republic cadet before that. I was good – no, I was the _best_ at what I did and I enjoyed it. I am _everything_ that you’re fighting against.”

“You quit being that when you became Fulcrum,” Zeb argued gently. “You’re one of us.”

“Am I?” Kallus laughed. “Then why, pray tell, do you and Hera and Draven all keep reminding me of how very _Imperial_ I am? It seems to me I am anything but one of you.”

Heart clenching, Zeb worked to visibly soften himself – to relax muscles and make himself appear smaller than he really was. He didn’t want to come across to Kallus as a threat. “We’re just tryin’ to help you fit in,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Garazeb, I can’t ‘fit in’. Not after what I’ve done.”

“Sure you can.” Zeb tried to smile. “Look at General Dodonna. He commanded a Star Destroyer. You’ve done that.”

Another hollow laugh, short and curt. “I have done _so much more_ than command a Star Destroyer. The blood that’s on my hands…” Kallus looked down at his clenched fists. “How many rebel cells did I slaughter? How many innocents did I murder in my quest for order? How many people here on this very base lost loved ones _specifically because of me_? How many Rebel spies died because of information I gathered? Where would the Rebellion be today if it weren’t for me?”

“That doesn’t matter anymore. Look at the good you’ve done since then! How many of us from Atollon are still alive because you got that warning to us?” Zeb held his hand out, open, praying to the Ashla that Kallus would listen. “You’re helping Draven train new spies, right? They’ll be so much safer knowing the things you’re teaching them.”

“You make it sound like the little I’ve done in the past year makes up for all my years of working for the Empire. Of believing in the Empire.” Kallus suddenly met Zeb’s eyes, redness spreading through the whites; Zeb was glad he didn’t have that tell when he was upset. “I’m not a good person, Garazeb. I never have been and I never will be. I’m cold and conniving and ambitious and far too willing to throw others under the speeder just to get ahead. You should save yourself the trouble and leave me be.”

Zeb dared to take a small step closer. “Kal, you can’t really mean that. Besides, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Kallus swatted at his outstretched hand. “You need reminders of how awful I am? Thrawn only found Atollon because I fouled up. I almost killed you more times than I can count – and I _tried_ to kill you and your family more times than that.” He paused, then spoke slower, less panicked. “I was there on Lasan. I used an ion disruptor. I didn’t lay my weapon down and refuse, even after I saw what it did to your people. If _anyone_ should condemn me, it should be you!”

“But I don’t,” Zeb said calmly, doing his best to hide the flashbacks that threatened to overtake his mind: screams and green fire and, finally, one last massive explosion, rocks and rubble left where a whole palace of people used to be.

“You should. Please.”

Zeb thought he’d caught on to what Kallus was doing: provoking an argument to drive Zeb away so that Kallus could continue to hate himself.

Well, Zeb wasn’t playing that game. “But I don’t,” he repeated, taking another step closer. He reached down and picked up one of Kallus’s hands. “You didn’t know yet. You believed what you were told. But look what you did when you started asking questions. Look how good you’ve become, Kal.”

The sparkle of moisture in Kallus’s eyes grew until Zeb saw tears roll slowly down his cheeks. “No,” he protested. “I’m not. But you are, Garazeb. You shouldn’t let me corrupt you.”

“Kal,” Zeb said seriously. “If High Command ordered you to go to, say, Alsakan, and kill off all the humans because the planet is Imperial and has an Academy on it pumping out recruits, would you?”

A horrified expression crossed Kallus’s face. “No. No, I couldn’t do that.”

“How about Devaron? Would you do to it what you did to Lasan?”

“Zeb, stop,” Kallus said, voice cracking. “I might not be able to do these things now, but I did them in my past. Don’t you see?”

Zeb resisted squeezing Kallus’s hand; the human hadn’t tried to jerk it away yet and Zeb didn’t want to push him on that. “I see that you’ve changed, that’s what I see.” He took a deep breath. “There was this teacher I had on Lasan. Chava. You’d hate her. But she knew her stuff. One of the things she used to tell us is that the most important step a being can take is the next one.”

Kallus frowned. “What the kriff does that mean?”

Zeb smiled at him. “It means that no matter what you’ve done in the past, what you do next matters more.”

“That sounds like Rebel bantha shit,” Kallus said, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand to no avail. “Garazeb…”

“What?” Zeb _did_ squeeze Kallus’s hand that time. “What is it, Kal?”

Kallus tried to hold his gaze, but tears started falling too fast. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? What are you sorry for?” Zeb prompted, ready to disagree if Kallus tried to argue he was a bad person again.

“Lasan,” Kallus said, taking little gasps of air. “I’m sorry I was there. I’m sorry I didn’t question orders. I’m sorry I destroyed your life and took everything from you. There’s no excuse. If I were any sort of man, I should’ve died rather than carry out those orders. But I didn’t and I won’t ever forgive myself for that.”

Zeb’s heart stuttered. He’d assumed that Kallus had apologized as much as he ever would back on Bahryn. “Kal…” he started.

“No,” Kallus cut him off. “Don’t lie. You haven’t put Lasan behind you. You can’t and you shouldn’t and you know that.”

“Kallus, don’t tell me what I think,” Zeb said, putting a little growl in his voice.

Kallus blinked quickly, tears sticking to his blond lashes. Rather than argue with Zeb, he continued. “I’m sorry I led the way to Atollon. If I’d been quicker or stealthier or more clever, you would all still be there, safe. I’m sorry I ever targeted the _Ghost_ for just trying to help those in need. I’m sorry I ever served a government so cruel and corrupt as the Empire. I’m sorry I was weak enough to believe the lies.”

Zeb realized that the more Kallus spoke, the more warmth welled inside his chest, the closer _he_ came to crying, too.

Maybe he hadn’t put Lasan as far behind him as he thought. Maybe he’d needed to hear Kallus apologize after all.

Zeb reached out and grabbed Kallus’s head, pressing their foreheads together, the way he might have done with a fellow Honor Guardsman before a battle. “Kal, you can apologize until the galaxy ends, but I’m still going to tell you that I don’t hold you personally responsible. Maybe I used to, but I know you better now. I know how much you’ve changed and I can’t wait to see the man you become when you change even more.”

Kallus gasped, eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t say that. Don’t say that I can be good. I can’t. I can never make up for what I’ve done.”

“Karabast, Kal. Let a guy make up his own mind, won’t you? If you want me to accept your apologies, have the decency to accept my forgiveness.” Acting on instinct, Zeb grabbed Kallus and pulled the sobbing man into his embrace, holding him tight.

“What are you doing?” Kallus asked, sounding alarmed even with his voice muffled in Zeb’s neck.

Zeb huffed. “I’m giving you a hug. It’s something sentient species do to comfort each other.”

“I _know_ what a hug is, Garazeb.”

“Do you?” Zeb quirked his brows even though Kallus couldn’t see them. “Then calm down, you lout. You’ve said your apologies. I forgive you for all of them.”

Kallus’s arms snuck around Zeb’s chest, grasping at his jumpsuit.

“Worry about what you do next, not what you did before,” Zeb said. “You’ll fit in better that way.”

They stood there for a while, Kallus hiccuping occasionally as he tried to get his sobs under control. 

Zeb rubbed Kallus’s back lightly with his thumbs. Part of him was thrilling inside at the extended contact with Kallus – the part that wanted to lift Kallus’s chin and kiss his cheeks again, this time sober, this time telling Kallus that he wanted to court if only Kallus would let him.

But Zeb knew he couldn’t do that. He’d be taking advantage of Kallus’s distress, possibly coercing the man. That wouldn’t be honorable. And Zeb held onto his honor tightly.

What Kallus really needed, Zeb knew, was a friend. How long had it been since Kallus let himself trust someone? How long since he didn’t have to worry about being betrayed or used or disposed of?

Kallus needed Zeb – and the other Spectres – to be his friends, if not his family.

Zeb could give him that. He could push down his attraction and be a friend. Nothing more. 

Better to have Kallus rely on him like that than to let him rot in a self-imposed isolation or to make him uncomfortable.

No, Zeb wouldn’t pursue courting, perhaps ever. He’d encourage friendship instead and do his best to make sure Kallus never felt so hopeless and alone again.

Kallus’s sobs ended, the hitching of his breath the only audible reminder. “Zeb?”

“Hm?”

“You won’t tell anyone…?”

Zeb chuckled. “Not if you don’t want me to. But, Kal, apologizing takes strength. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

Kallus pulled back. “Not the apologizing. The crying. I’m better than that, usually.”

Zeb lightly cuffed the back of Kallus’s head. “That’s the problem, buddy. You’ve held it all in too long.” He wrapped an arm around Kallus’s shoulders. “Tell ya what. I won’t tell the others you have feelings if you promise to talk to me before it gets this bad again.”

The slightest of smiles formed on Kallus’s face. “Deal,” he said. “Now we should probably check out this temple before Draven sends somebody after us.”

 _Knowing Jaci, she’d probably tell ‘em to shove off and leave us alone._ “We’re probably okay on that,” Zeb said, “but let’s get started if you want.”

Kallus nodded and turned on the glowrod. 

Zeb watched him enter the temple with a weight in the pit in his stomach. He was making the right decision, he knew, but it still hurt to deny himself something he hadn’t even wanted in so very long. Something he’d never thought he’d feel for anyone but a fellow lasat.

Kallus was special, Zeb thought, more so than he would ever know. The Warrior, chosen by the Ashla. A man strong enough to change his convictions when presented with new evidence. Clever and intelligent enough to avoid being caught by Thrawn for an entire year. Someone who ignited a fire in Zeb’s heart again.

There weren’t many beings in the galaxy who could claim even half of that.

Kallus stopped, a few meters in the building. “You coming?” he asked.

“Yeah,” grumbled Zeb. “I’m followin’ ya.” 

_Anywhere._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, show canon! This chapter surrounds episodes 4-04 & 4-05 In the Name of the Rebellion.

Kallus wasn’t quite sure when or how he volunteered to help prepare the new temple for Rebellion use, but it had happened somewhere along the way.

Most mornings, unless General Draven sent for him over breakfast, Kallus joined a group of laborers on a shuttle, riding the short hop over to the new site, and spent his days moving rock and rubble, flora and fauna, and marking out the new floorplans.

Physical labor was cathartic, in a way. He returned to his bunk every night exhausted enough that he slept too deeply to remember his dreams. No dreams meant no sleep-talking which meant fewer jokes from his roommates. He built up muscles that had grown a little lax sitting at a desk, but with the plentiful diet provided by the Rebellion, he filled out instead of simply bulking up. The jungle air and sun was refreshing, much better than the dank stuffiness of the Intelligence room. His lingering injuries from the torture quit bothering him and every night, he went to sleep knowing he’d accomplished something demonstrable.

According to Zeb, after just two weeks of work at the temple, Kallus was looking noticeably healthier.

 _Zeb_. 

That was perhaps the best part of working at the temple: Zeb was there, working alongside Kallus. 

Kallus spent his days with Zeb, talking, accepting teasing, feeling his way to teasing back, and then Zeb would follow him to the mess for dinner. Sometimes by that point, they were both too worn out to hold a conversation, but it didn’t seem to matter. They could eat together in silence just as well as they could eat while talking.

Things had gotten easier after Kallus’s apologies. Zeb seemed more comfortable approaching him – and while Kallus’s feelings towards the lasat hadn’t grown any less tangled, he was seeing a whole new side to Zeb. This new Zeb was relaxed, was generous with hugs and back pats, equally generous with jokes and complaints and confidences, and overly generous with toothy smiles. It was the Zeb, Kallus imagined, the Spectres saw.

It was a Zeb Kallus wanted to see a lot more of.

Kallus also liked what he saw of himself when he looked in the mirror, too. Besides the physical changes – the added weight, hair longer and floppier, freckles bolder from the sun – he noticed that it was easier to actually _look_ himself in the eyes. He was becoming someone Zeb approved of, someone most of the other Rebels seemed to approve of, and he _liked it_.

Oh, sure, he still fell into an Imperial frown when he wasn’t thinking about it and Zeb teased him about scowling far too often – but he also found himself smiling some. Real smiles, not the tight, pleased-with-himself smirks he’d used to intimidate in the Empire.

If his smiles were mostly saved for Zeb, that was just because the lasat was the closest thing Kallus had to a friend.

“Kal.”

Or was he already a friend? In his adult life, Kallus had known coworkers, subordinates, acquaintances, mentors, superiors, opponents, rivals, allies, and mentees. All his interactions had been defined by his position in the ISB and the goals of the Empire.

A friend was something entirely new. 

“ _Kal_.”

Kallus didn’t quite know how to judge if his relationship with Zeb counted as friendship or not. He hoped it did, but felt awkward asking straight out.

“You’re in your head again, Kal.”

Zeb’s voice broke through his thoughts and Kallus blinked, noticing the lasat leaning against the temple wall, a slight grin on his face.

“I apologize,” Kallus said quickly. “I didn’t intend to be rude.”

The smile grew and the fur around Zeb’s eyes crinkled. “Nah. But lunch _is_ almost over. Might wanna finish up whatcha got.”

Kallus glanced down; he was still holding a packet of dried nerf jerky and a jogan fruit while a half-full bulb of water sat by his feet. Zeb was right; he’d regret it if he didn’t eat his rations.

Eating quickly, Kallus noticed Zeb still studying him. “What is it?” he asked between bites.

“Your hair.” Zeb tilted his head questioningly.

Kallus looked upward as if he could see his own head. With his hair grown out, he’d been testing out different styles so he could put off going to the barber; that was simply time wasted that he could spend on other projects, or with other people. It’d gotten a little _too_ long to effectively apply product to, yet not quite long enough to tie back, so he had combed it off to the side that morning, hoping it would stay out of his face as he worked. “What of it?” he asked.

“Looks weird.”

Kallus huffed. “I appreciate that, Garazeb. Thank you.”

“No, I mean…” Zeb suddenly reached out and dug his fingers in Kallus’s hair, completely destroying Kallus’s efforts. He brushed Kallus’s hair back, shaking it a little so it fell free, parting slightly in the middle. “There. You don’t look nearly as pretentious now. Looks natural.”

Kallus pointedly eyed Zeb’s head, bereft of any hair except that short, fine fur. “You’re an expert on human hair, I see.”

Zeb laughed. “Maybe I’m not an expert, but I know what I like.”

 _What he likes_. Kallus shook his head a little, tossing loose strands out of his eyes, wondering when a _lasat’s_ opinion on his hair began to matter.

Around them, beings were starting to get back to work, packing away lunch trash to dispose of later. Kallus quickly stuffed his jerky in his pocket; he could finish it surreptitiously as he worked that way.

He followed Zeb around the back of the temple, where a large part of the temple walls had crumbled, blocking an entrance. It was a daunting project that they’d all procrastinated on – the rock needed to be moved out of the way and the wall reconstructed – but Zeb had rounded up a group to start working on it that morning.

Kallus, of course, volunteered right away.

He stretched as he walked up to the pile. His job was simply to take rocks handed to him from the top of the pile and move them to new piles a couple meters away, sorting them by size. Mindless work, for sure, but that left their small workgroup free to chat while working. Zeb carried most of the conversation – and most of the rock – but Kallus and a cathar named Akirra held up their end as best they could.

Akirra and Zeb scrambled up the rock slide – Zeb on top, Akirra positioning himself halfway – and started working the rubble free, carefully handing it down to Kallus for sorting.

Everything went smoothly until Zeb handed Akirra a particularly large stone. Akirra tried to adjust his footing to accommodate the extra weight, but failed; the rock rolled from his hands, heading straight for Kallus.

Kallus’s instincts were good enough that he almost managed to heed Zeb’s shouted warning.

He spun to the side, trying to dodge the small boulder. It missed his torso and his legs – the parts Kallus were most worried about – but hit Kallus near his left shoulder, _hard_.

Biting back a swear, Kallus leapt aside as the rock landed on the ground and rolled. His arm stung where he’d been struck and he looked down to see his shirtsleeve ripped and blood already dripping down as far as his elbow. He gingerly touched his bicep – the cut was deep and wide, but nothing felt broken.

As far as Kallus was concerned, that made him lucky.

Not so for Zeb. “Kal!” he called as he scampered down the rock slide, grabbing Kallus’s arm to examine the damage.

“I’m okay,” Kallus protested. “I just need some bacta.”

Zeb brushed his arm, wiping away some of the blood.

“Don’t do that,” Kallus fussed. “You’ll get it in your fur.”

Zeb shook his head, completely unconcerned with the mess. “There’s a medkit on the shuttle. That should be good enough to get you back to the medbay.”

“I don’t need the medbay,” Kallus said. “It’s just a cut.”

“Right,” Zeb said. “And it’s bad enough that if you don’t get it seen to quickly, you’ll have another scar to match those others.” He traced the raised red stripes just below the cut – Kallus’s constant reminder of Onderon and the company he lost to Saw Gerrera’s gang. A permanent memento of his first encounter with an angry lasat.

Kallus pushed Zeb’s hand away. “Scars aren’t a problem,” he said. “I have plenty and will probably have plenty more by the time this war is over.” _And who’s going to see them, much less care about them?_

Zeb frowned. “Infection, then. C’mon, you are _not_ losing this arm from sheer stubbornness.”

“I won’t _lose_ –” Kallus cut himself off when it became obvious Zeb wasn’t listening. He let the lasat lead him through the temple and across the cleared landing field to the shuttle.

Zeb dug out the medkit and Kallus stood, holding the remains of his shirt out of the way, while Zeb carefully washed and cleaned the cut – Kallus managed not to hiss as the antiseptic stung – coated it with bacta, and then knit the edges together with a row of small bandages.

The lasat looked at him, concern in his bright green eyes. “You need to get back to the medbay.” He gestured to the back of the shuttle, where an emergency speeder was loaded. “I’ll take you.”

“ _Garazeb_ ,” Kallus said forcefully. “You don’t need to do that. This isn’t bad enough to warrant an emergency trip; what if someone else needs the speeder more? I’ll find another job to do so I don’t rip the bandages.”

Zeb looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue – for a moment, at least. “Kal, are you ever gonna be able to admit you need help or are you always gonna think you don’t deserve it?”

Kallus clenched his jaw, trying to hide just how uncomfortable Zeb’s question made him. “If there’s ever a reason for me to ask for help, I will. I sent you my escape pod coordinates, didn’t I? But this?” He gestured to his arm. “This is nothing. I’ve survived much worse.”

Zeb reached out for his arm once more. Claws danced down Kallus’s skin, gently catching on the scars from Onderon, the lines of white lightning left from Thrawn and Pryce’s torture, and a myriad of other marks Kallus had earned over the years.

“Garazeb,” Kallus repeated, but Zeb didn’t look back up. Kallus sighed. “It’s a gash. It won’t kill me. I won’t lose the arm. You did plenty to take care of me already.”

“Get on the speeder,” Zeb said, completely ignoring all of Kallus’s arguments. “You’re not getting another one of these because of me.”

Kallus grimaced. “You’re not going to let up on this, are you?”

“Lasat never know when to give up, remember?” Zeb flashed his teeth, but Kallus didn’t get the idea he was smiling.

Recognizing that he lost the argument before it ever began, Kallus let Zeb direct him to the speeder.

Pressed against Zeb’s back as they flew through the jungle, Kallus thought, _At least he’s being gentler than he was on Bahryn. There he might have thrown me over his shoulder and hauled me off as I protested._

Kallus smiled, mutton chops grating against Zeb’s shoulder armor, and tightened his good arm around Zeb’s chest.

Stubborn lasat, indeed.

Zeb didn’t have to look up to know who was sitting down across from him at the mess table. The smells of caf and freshly-washed human were good clues, but the scent-soaked coat Kallus basically lived in when he wasn’t working in the sun was a dead giveaway.

“‘Morning, Kal,” he said lightly. “How’s the arm?”

Kallus held his caf mug up and took a deep breath before sighing. “Well enough, Garazeb. Still a little sore, but nothing to worry over.”

Zeb nodded, poking at his breakfast with a spoon. “You gotta take it easy today, okay? Work on paperwork or something.” 

Kallus huffed, but his expression betrayed amusement. “I imagine you’ll have something to say if I attempt to do otherwise.”

“Kriffin’ straight,” Zeb agreed. 

Ducking his head, hair fell in Kallus’s face and Zeb realized something: the human had let his hair hang free, just like Zeb had suggested the day before. Zeb considered bringing it up – _Hey, Kal, nice hair. No. Hey, Kal, like your stylist. No…_ – but his thoughts were interrupted by the dinging of his datapad.

Digging the palm-sized pad out of his utility belt, Zeb glanced at the new message and grinned. “Kanan and the kids are gettin’ back today!” he said happily. It’d been a month since he saw the rest of his family in person; he was ready for their return even if it meant he had to share his cabin with Ezra again.

“That’s good. When are they supposed to arrive?” Kallus asked, without looking back up.

Zeb looked at the message – a brief note from Kanan saying they were about to leave Mandalorian space – and did some quick calculations. “Early this afternoon, I think.”

Kallus nodded. “You should stay here today. Don’t go to the temple. Someone needs to greet them, especially since Hera’s on that supply run.”

The human looked up again and Zeb thought he saw disappointment in Kallus’s eyes. Eager to see that look go away, Zeb offered, “It’s okay, Kal. If you’re headed out there, I’ll go, too, at least for a bit. I can hike back after lunch.”

Kallus shook his head, but another _ding_ interrupted their conversation. It was Kallus’s turn to dig out his datapad. “Looks like I’m staying here,” he said, scanning the screen. “There’s new intel from– oh. From Saw Gerrera.”

Zeb wished he could fix the grimace on Kallus’s face, but he knew that it would be back as soon as they parted ways; Kallus reacted the same way anytime anyone mentioned Gerrera. Thinking back to Kallus’s confessions on Bahryn, Zeb understood why.

Kallus had never elaborated on what happened to him on Onderon, but the scars Zeb had seen on his arm and stomach plainly said that Gerrera’s mercenary had done more than simply ‘let him live’. Biting back a snarl, Zeb wished – not for the first time – that he could have words with that other lasat.

“I should get down there,” Kallus said, taking a long swallow of his caf. 

“You know Draven doesn’t expect you until it’s time for your shift,” Zeb said, chastising softly.

Kallus arched his eyebrows. “No sense in waiting for some arbitrary hour,” he argued. “There’s work to be done, Garazeb, so I should get to it as quickly as I can.”

“Fine.” Zeb knew Kallus wouldn’t be swayed. “But if you can, take a break when the others get here. They’ll want to see you, too.”

Kallus snorted, the noise catching Zeb off guard. “They won’t,” he said. “As far as they’re concerned, I’ll always be Agent Kallus, but I appreciate you suggesting otherwise.”

Before Zeb could argue, Kallus stood, clutching his datapad and his empty caf cup. He gave Zeb a slight smile and was gone, winding his way through the crowd of hungry Rebels.

 _You’re wrong, Kal_ , Zeb thought, irritated. _You don’t know how wrong you are but I don’t know how to convince you of that._

Picking at his mushy cereal, Zeb decided he wasn’t hungry anymore. He’d go check on the mechanics and see if they needed any help for the time being. In the hangar, he’d be able to keep an ear out for arriving ships and be there to greet the _Gauntlet_.

Maybe he could talk to the others about Kallus after they got settled back in. Even if they didn’t make him an official Spectre, he could still be part of the family, right? It worked for Rex, so it could work for Kallus, too.

Somehow, someday, Zeb would convince Kallus that he belonged – with the Rebels, with the Spectres. With Zeb.

It was just a matter of finding the right argument.

It had been hours since the Spectres arrived on Yavin IV and Kallus was still fuming.

Really, he was more upset at himself and his own inability to control his emotions where Saw Gerrera was concerned, but when the Bridger brat – no, _Lieutenant Commander_ Bridger; the boy was an officer despite his youth – actually suggested Gerrera was _right_? He’d been unable to disguise his disgust.

Kallus stopped outside the temple, leaning against the moss-covered walls, and watched the sky grow darker. Deep inside, he knew his anger was hypocritical. He’d committed atrocities in the name of the Empire, in the pursuit of information. He’d been convinced it was _right_ and _justified_. Gerrera and his men probably felt the same about their own actions.

But Kallus had come to see he’d been wrong. It hadn’t been an immediate turn-about, to be sure, but with Zeb’s help he’d realized he could achieve his goals without stooping to cruelty. He hadn’t yet had a chance to _show_ that change, not when all he’d been doing was working on the new temple, but if he could get assigned to a new mission, he could show his mettle.

That wasn’t the point, though. The point was that if the former _ISB-021_ could realize his error, then so could a revolutionary like Gerrera.

Kallus rubbed his face tiredly. It had been a long morning hunched over his desk, confirming Gerrara’s rumors about the Jalindi installation and devising plans for mitigating the dangers presented by the relay station. Without Zeb there to set him straight, it’d been easy to slip back into old habits; he’d worked right through lunch and found himself irritable and hungry come mid-afternoon.

There’d been no chance to take a break, however. He’d been sent to fetch the newly-arrived Spectres – he hadn’t _intended_ to interrupt their reunion or seek any of them out for at least a few days, but what Mon Mothma requested, Kallus followed through on.

It'd been obvious as soon as the Jalindi station was brought up that Mon Mothma and Senator Organa intended the Spectres to pick up the mission Kallus had planned out, but he couldn’t help but wonder why them? Kanan, Bridger, and Wren were fresh from fighting on Mandalore, Hera had barely landed from a failed supply run, and Zeb… Well, Zeb was probably the most battle-ready of any of them, but Kallus hated to see him leave again. It’d been nearly a month since the ill-fated mission to Serreno, plenty of time for Zeb to heal and prepare himself, but Kallus still felt protective.

At least this mission, _he’d_ planned. He knew the intel was good. He knew the plan was solid, with the flexibility to adapt as needed.

That should have made it easier, but it didn’t.

Kallus sighed and idly rubbed at the bacta patches on his arm, pressing in just to feel the pain. He was sorely tempted to seek Zeb out on the _Ghost_ , but he knew the lasat would be enjoying the presence of his family. He knew that Zeb would be spending most of his time with them now that they were reunited. He _knew_ that getting used to Zeb’s company had been a mistake – it was only ever meant to be temporary – but he’d let it happen anyway.

And now he was paying for it in loneliness.

Kallus watched, not really seeing, as a green-and-white astromech rolled onto the landing field. He tried to gear himself up for the walk to the secondary temple, for facing his roommates’ inevitable teasing about the Spectres’ return, but the astromech stopped in the middle of the tarmac, as if waiting for a signal. The unusual behavior caught Kallus’s attention and he tried to determine from a distance if the droid was malfunctioning.

It wasn’t. Moments later, an oversized hologram of Saw Gerrera’s head appeared over the landing field, speaking loud enough the entire base could hear him.

Mind racing, trying to determine what to do – shut the droid down? Let the transmission continue? – Kallus missed the first part of Gerrera’s broadcast.

_“All across the galaxy, your people suffer while the leaders of **this** ‘Rebellion’ refuse to act.”_

Kallus squeezed his fists tight, eyes glued on Gerrera’s huge form. All around him, Rebels stopped to listen. A few Security guards looked at each other, obviously wondering if they should be acting, just as Kallus was.

To his surprise, Mon Mothma emerged from the temple, approaching the droid. She greeted Gerrera politely and stood there, frowning, as he upbraided the Alliance for choosing not to destroy the Jalindi relay.

Gerrera should _not_ have known that; the decision was only a few hours old. Eyes narrowed, Kallus thought back, identifying each and every being who’d been present for those discussions. Who had leaked the information to Gerrera? Who had tampered with the droid Gerrera was using – or worse yet, who had snuck Gerrera’s astromech onto base?

If their security was letting Gerrera through, it would let the Empire through, and that was unacceptable.

The cut on his arm burned as his muscles tensed, pulling at bandages and semi-healed edges. After Onderon, the claw marks had burned that way, Kallus recalled.

That had been Gerrera’s fault, too.

Kallus didn’t consider himself a superstitious man, but suddenly getting hurt on that same arm, in almost the same exact place the lasat had started to eviscerate him, seemed an ominous omen. He thought it’d been bad enough going to sleep the night before with memories of Onderon filling his dreams, but to spend the day entirely focused on Gerrera – up to and including assigning the _Ghost_ to a mission based on the extremist’s intel – was worse. Topping the night off with a transmission from the man himself just soured Kallus’s mood even further.

He didn’t want to listen to anything else the smug bastard had to say. Intelligence would end up parsing every second of the transmission anyhow. He didn’t need to stay.

Sullen and bitter, Kallus set off into the dark, hoping to fall asleep and forget Gerrera ever existed.

He didn’t get very far before he heard someone running behind him, footfalls heavy against the paving stones. It was a familiar sound and he turned to see Zeb skidding to a stop, silhouetted by the light of Gerrera’s transmission.

“What are you doing here?” Kallus bit out, unable to keep the stress from his voice. “You’re supposed to be on the _Ghost_.”

“I will be,” said Zeb. “But everyone’s kinda scattered now anyway. I was coming to check on you.”

Kallus turned away. “You don’t need to do that, Garazeb. I’m fine.”

“Like hells. I saw you in that meeting. You’re not okay.”

Spinning on his heels, Kallus glared at his fr– his fellow Rebel. “I can handle Gerrera,” he said.

“Now see,” Zeb said, with a raise of his brows. “I never said anything about Gerrera.”

Kallus rolled his eyes. “You implied it.”

Zeb shrugged. “Still. I know you don’t like him and today had to be tough.”

Kallus frowned. ‘Dislike’ was an understatement, but the lasat knew that. The lasat also knew he didn’t need to be coddled when it came to unpleasant things. “Discomfort is part of life. If you try to come find me every time it happens, you’ll spend the entire war seeking me out.”

_Would that really be so bad?_

Drawing up his shoulders, Kallus closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. “Go back to the _Ghost_ , Garazeb. Your family needs you.”

“My friend needs me, too.” Zeb offered a smile. “Kal, it’s okay. Talk to me, mate.”

Kallus gulped. _He called me his **friend**. He thinks of me as a **friend**._ But for as much as Kallus wanted to explore that notion, he knew he wasn’t ready to tell Zeb any more about Onderon than he already had. “No. I mean it. I’m fine. You have a mission tomorrow and I would much rather see you face it rested.”

The two men stared at each other in the dark, Kallus determined not to give way to Zeb’s stubbornness for once.

Zeb’s shoulders slumped. “You’re not gonna talk, are you?”

Kallus stood there, silent, picturing the disappointment it was too dark to see in Zeb’s eyes.

Zeb took a step forward, close enough to reach out and squeeze Kallus’s shoulder. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep? Don’t let Gerrera bother ya. He’s a kriffin’ bastard, but you used to eat those kinda folk for breakfast, right? You’re tougher ‘n him.”

Finding himself unable to control his reaction to the warm weight of Zeb’s touch, Kallus melted. “I’m off to bed now,” he said, relenting. “Promise _me_ you’ll get through this mission without getting captured? I don’t want Rex handing me your bo-rifle again.”

“Okay,” Zeb said, a hint of humor bleeding through. “I’ll tell Rex to give it to Kanan this time.”

“ _Garazeb_ …”

Zeb laughed warmly. “I’ll see ya tomorrow night. Promise.”

He hadn’t meant to, but he’d lied to Kallus, Zeb thought sadly. The _Ghost_ probably wasn’t going to make it back to Yavin IV that night. Possibly not for many nights; he knew that Hera wouldn’t stop until she found Sabine, Ezra, and Chopper.

They were all in agreement there; neither Zeb nor Kanan wanted to abandon the kids to Saw’s graces.

They’d jumped to the edges of the nearest inhabited system to Saw’s last known trajectory – or as close as they could calculate, without Chopper’s help. Unfortunately, Saw’s U-wing did not appear to be in the system.

Hera slammed a fist on the ship’s yoke. “ _Sithspit._ Zeb, scan again, just in case. Kanan, see if you can connect with Ezra with the Force.”

“That’s not how–”

“I don’t care how the Force works!” she growled. “I want them back, _now_.”

Silence fell over the cockpit. Zeb turned to the scanner screens on the wall, using a claw to tap in the codes to initiate a new scan of all ships in the system.

“I’d better contact Yavin,” Hera said, sounding defeated. “They need to know the relay mission was a failure.”

Zeb held his breath, unsure what he could add.

“And that the kids are gone.”

“Hera,” Kanan said, “if you want me to do it…?”

“No,” she said. “I’m the mission commander. This is my ship. I volunteered us. It’s my duty.”

Zeb’s ears twitched, zeroing in on the beeps and whistles as Hera connected the cockpit comm to the Yavin IV base.

“Captain Syndulla?” asked an all-too-familiar voice, as deep and smooth as shimmersilk.

Zeb couldn’t help but look. Kallus appeared there, in flickering blue, just his head and shoulders. Hera and Kanan probably hadn’t caught it, but there’d been just a hint of worry in his voice.

It made sense. They should have been landing back at base by now. They should have reported in hours ago. _Of course_ the control team would assume something went wrong.

Zeb had forgotten that Kallus was heading up that control team, however. Stupid, really, as the whole mission had been Kallus’s plan. If anyone would be in charge, it would be him.

Under other circumstances, Zeb would be proud that within a month, Kallus had worked his way back to command. At the moment, however, he was too tired to muster up much emotion.

“Captain Kallus,” Hera said wearily. “I have to report a mission failure. The relay station on Jalindi has been destroyed and three of our crew are missing.”

Kallus’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing. “What happened?”

“Saw Gerrera.”

Kallus’s shoulders tensed and stiffened at the revolutionary’s name. Zeb winced. There was no way Kallus would react well to hearing that Saw kriffed up his mission. He’d been so touchy the night before after Saw’s transmission; Zeb couldn’t imagine how Kallus was feeling at that moment.

He wished he could be there for Kallus, to help him work through his worst thoughts, but they both had their duties. There would be time for Zeb to try to get Kallus to talk later, _after_ they rescued Sabine, Ezra, and Chopper.

Hera explained everything that had happened so far, from Ezra’s fumble with Brom Titus to Saw’s kidnapping of the kids and Chopper. As Hera spoke, Zeb’s shoulders fell, discouragement settling in heavily.

One of the sensors tweedled and words scrolled across the small screen.

“Hera!” Zeb said quickly, stepping into the holo pickup range.

Kallus jerked, immediately looking in Zeb’s direction.

Thankfully, the others were looking at Zeb, too; they missed the way Kallus’s pupils dilated when their eyes locked.

There wasn’t time to analyze that, though. “Hera, Chopper just sent a transmission. They’re on a shipping transport stranded in the Tonnis system!”

“Tonnis system. Got it.” Hera started punching in coordinates, ignoring everyone and everything else.

Kallus and Zeb still watched each other. “Captain Orrelios–” and yeah, that was right, they weren’t Kal and Garazeb right then, were they? “–is that all the droid reported?”

Zeb glanced back at the screen. “They’ve got some prisoners they freed. Chopper says…” Zeb trailed off, almost smiling. “Chopper says they’re a bunch of whiners the Empire wanted to work on some secret project.”

“Secret project?” Kanan asked.

Kallus frowned, one hand coming up, thumb resting thoughtfully on his chin.

“Know anything about that?” Zeb asked.

“Perhaps,” Kallus said. “Perhaps these prisoners can tell us more.”

“We’ll interview ‘em for you,” Hera said. “We’re jumping now, Captain. See you as soon as we can get back to base.” Without looking, she slammed the button to disconnect the comm.

Kallus’s image flickered out, leaving Zeb feeling strangely empty.

The empty feeling stayed until they dropped out of hyperspace some hours later, the gas giant Yavin shining through the viewport.

“Ezra, go tell the techs we’re about to land,” Hera instructed.

Ezra groaned. “I was just kidnapped, Hera. I’m too traumatized. Can’t Zeb do it?”

Hera shot a look over her shoulder. 

Grumbling, Ezra got up and headed back to the hold. “I thought I was your favorite!” he whined.

“Favorite pain in the ass,” Zeb mumbled, just loud enough for Sabine to hear. She giggled, making Zeb feel a little better.

The _Ghost_ glided through Yavin IV’s atmosphere, coming to a smooth landing under Hera’s expert hand. The ship jolted almost imperceptibly as Zeb slid down the hold ladder, marking the moment the landing struts touched down.

“All right,” he announced to the group of techs as he made his way to the ramp controls. “There’s probably gonna be some people who wanna talk to you, so be ready. If you need food or the refresher or anything, just ask. Welcome to the Rebellion.”

He hit the button to lower the ramp, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as fresh jungle air entered the ship.

A familiar scent tickled his nose and he smiled. “Hey, Kal,” he said, sauntering down the ramp.

“Garazeb,” Kallus said. He spoke formally, standing at attention as the _Ghost_ ’s passengers disembarked, but Zeb saw relief in his eyes.

He winked at Kallus. “Toldja I’d see you tonight.”

Kallus huffed. “All it took was a complete mission failure.”

Zeb stopped in front of Kallus, a frown forming. “We got the kids back and got some new recruits. I call that a success.”

“ _I_ call that more work.” Kallus glanced past Zeb at the technicians. Bringing his gaze back to Zeb, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “I _am_ glad you rescued your crewmates so quickly.”

Zeb cuffed Kallus’s arm – his good arm – and softened his expression. “So’m I, Kal. So’m I.”

Kallus ducked his head for a moment and Zeb saw a smile flicker across his face. He straightened. “We need to debrief you and your ‘recruits’. I’ve got a room set up in the temple. There’s food and caf for everyone. Follow me.”

The group trudged into the temple behind Kallus and the few other Intelligence officers who’d accompanied him to the ship.

Zeb noted that Jael was _not_ among them. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

Filing into the back of the briefing room Kallus led them to, Zeb leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Sabine settled in next to him. “You think they know Ezra and I didn’t really learn anything about Saw’s operation?”

“They will when you tell them,” Zeb said, looking down at her.

Sabine hummed in acknowledgment. “So,” she said lightly, eyes glued to the front where Kallus was assigning each Intelligence operative a technician to debrief. “Agent Kallus is fitting in nicely.”

 _He’s not an Agent anymore_ , Zeb thought, knee-jerk, but he didn’t say it. “Took him a bit, but he’s getting the hang of it.”

“You almost wouldn’t know he used to be Imperial.” She laughed. “Well, you wouldn’t if he learned how to smile.”

 _But he **does** smile. I can make him smile._ “He’ll warm up, you’ll see. He’s had a lot to get used to.”

“But you’re helping him.” It wasn’t a question. Sabine glanced up at Zeb with an inscrutable expression.

Zeb stared back at her. Hadn’t he mentioned that the night before, over dinner? It shouldn’t have been a surprise. “He helped us.”

“He did.” She nodded. “Not saying you shouldn’t, Zeb. Just curious what’s going on there. I mean, he _did_ boast about Lasan back when he first started chasing us. You hated him pretty intently there for a while.”

“He was tryin’ to provoke me,” Zeb pointed out. “I told you what he said on Bahryn.”

“Yeah, you did.” Sabine settled back in. “I want you to be okay, that’s all.”

Zeb leaned over a bit, bumping Sabine’s shoulder. “Thought _I_ was supposed to be the one watching out for _you_.”

Sabine grabbed a detonator from her belt and tossed it in the air lightly. “I’m good,” she said, smirking.

Zeb laughed. “I’m sure you are,” he agreed.

Kallus looked up, eyes scanning across the gathered Spectres, and gestured to an empty table off to the side.

“Guess we’re up,” Sabine said, pushing off the wall.

Ezra and Sabine slid into the chairs behind the table while Zeb, Kanan, and Hera stood behind them. Zeb crossed his arms, feeling protective of the kids. Sure, they were just talking to Kallus and Zeb knew they weren’t in any trouble, but they’d _just gotten them back_. Even Kallus would understand, he knew.

Perhaps he did. Kallus shot Zeb a questioning look as he sat down, placing a cup of caf by his datapad.

Zeb gave him a tight smile and it seemed to work. Kallus lost a little bit of tension.

“Shall we begin?” Kallus asked, pulling up the standard notetaking app on his datapad. He tapped the screen a few times, creating a blank document.

“Sure,” said Ezra, slouching in his chair. “Can we hurry? I’m tired and wanna get some sleep.”

Kallus blinked. If Ezra’s casual indifference irritated him, he managed to conceal it beneath a veneer of crisp, practiced discipline.

At first, as far as Zeb could tell, it was a normal debriefing. The Spectres – mostly Hera and Ezra – walked Kallus through the mission, step by step, with Kallus occasionally stopping them to ask questions and pry into details. The whole thing was routine and boring enough Zeb let his mind drift.

But then Saw Gerrera entered the story.

Zeb watched as Kallus’s grip on his stylus tightened, as his forehead wrinkled, lips turning white as he pursed them. Soon, Zeb quit listening to Ezra and Sabine and focused on his friend. Kallus’s right hand was steady as he took notes, but his left hand was anything but. Fingernails tapped against the table, a rapid yet erratic rhythm. Beneath the table, one booted foot twisted back and forth, the squeak just barely audible.

“I don’t know, really.” Ezra shrugged in response to Kallus’s latest question. “There were explosives. Some kind of proton bombs? I didn’t get a good look at them.”

Kallus fixed the boy with a piercing gaze. “In a cargo container that size, packed to the top like you mentioned, you had to be close enough to touch them. Are you sure they were proton bombs and not some other explosive?”

“Ask Sabine if you wanna know that. I was too busy dealing with the stormtroopers,” Ezra huffed. He stared back at Kallus. “You know how Imperials are. Try to fix all their problems by throwing a bunch of troopers at it. _Stupid_.”

It certainly wasn’t Ezra’s most sensitive comment, but he’d said worse. He was getting to Kallus, though: the way Kallus repeatedly traced the edges of his stylus with his thumb drew Zeb’s attention to the rest of his nervous body language. Zeb knew Saw Gerrera was a point of contention for Kallus. He’d known that since Bahryn, but it’d really been obvious the night before, after Saw’s transmission.

“Perhaps I do know that,” Kallus said slowly. “But it still doesn’t excuse your lack of attention to detail, Bridger.”

Ezra groaned, rubbing at his temples. “I told you, my best guess is proton bombs.” He opened his eyes again, peeking at Kallus’s datapad. “Hey, shouldn’t you be writing all this down?”

Kallus worked his jaw. “I’ll add to the report when you actually give me credible information.”

Even after everything, Zeb just hadn’t realized _how badly_ Kallus would be affected by hearing about the man. It was strange to watch the normally stoic human react as he was. 

Was it the memory of Saw on Onderon getting to Kallus? Or was there more going on?

Voice growing tighter and snippier, Kallus pressed on. “And did you _bother_ to notice which of Gerrera’s men was piloting the U-wing?” he asked, the third time he’d rephrased that very question.

“Hey,” said Hera firmly, a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “Ease up, Captain. There’s absolutely no reason for any of us to be able to identify Gerrara’s men.”

“Species? Gender? Height? Weapons? General appearance?” Kallus asked sharply. “I’m not asking for a biography, _Captain_.”

Zeb would have almost believed the impatience in Kallus’s voice if he hadn’t chosen that moment to reach out for his caf. His hand shook so violently, so obviously, that hot caf splashed out and Kallus dropped the nearly-full cup.

Caf ran across the table and into the laps of Sabine and Ezra, who pushed back as quickly as they could.

“Karabast!” Ezra yelped, shaking caf off his arm. “Watch what you’re doing, Kallus!”

Staring at the fallen caf cup, seemingly oblivious to the bright red splotch forming on the back of his pale hand, Kallus furrowed his brow. “If you would answer my questions, Bridger, we could both leave and not have to deal with each other. I’d rather jump into a sarlacc pit than spend my free time with your kind and I assume you feel the same, so let’s try to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

Zeb couldn’t help his surprise. “‘Your kind’? What do you mean by that, Kal?” he growled, moving in front of Sabine and reaching out for Ezra. 

The room fell silent as everyone’s attention turned their direction.

Kallus shot Zeb an indignant glare. “You know exactly what I mean, Orrelios,” he hissed. He stood, straight as a laser beam, face set in anger. 

It was like looking into the past, Zeb noted. All Kallus needed was to put on that karking stupid helmet and he’d once more be the nasty ISB agent who’d originally pursued them.

Behind them, Zeb heard someone call, “Captain Kallus!”

He turned and saw General Draven standing in the doorway. The general made his way to their table briskly, eyes never leaving Kallus as he walked. Behind him, Jael slunk into the room.

“General,” Kallus said, making a visible effort to calm down.

Zeb bit his lip. _How come he backs off for Draven and not for me?_

Draven gestured Jael closer. “Captain, your debrief is through. The lieutenant will finish up for you. You come with me.”

Kallus nodded curtly and stalked out of the room.

“What was that about?” Kanan asked once Kallus and Draven were both gone.

Zeb knew the question had been directed at him, but he didn’t have an answer. “I really don’t know,” he admitted. Looking down, he placed a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “You okay, kid?”

Ezra grumbled. “I’m covered in caf and Kallus is still a Core World sleemo.”

“Guess he is.” Zeb frowned. What had happened? In the space of fifteen minutes, Kallus had gone from his friend to acting like Bahryn had never happened.

A foul mood settled in and Zeb didn’t try to fight it. He didn’t like the way Kallus had talked to Ezra and he half hoped General Draven was chewing Kallus out, but the way Kallus had turned so quickly was worrisome. What was going on in the human’s head? Surely _something_ had happened; surely Zeb wasn’t _that_ clueless about Kallus’s character.

Was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to whiplashcrash for helping me with this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for some violent descriptions. Not really graphic, but if you’ve got a good imagination…

Kallus barely noticed anyone else as he left Draven’s office. He shoved through the halls, paying no attention to who or what he bumped and jostled as he went.

He wasn’t sure if he was seething or about to break down.

The Jalindi operation had been his first mission for the Rebels in nearly two weeks. He’d meant to show them how he’d changed, to prove his worth.

And he’d totally kriffed it up.

Well, Saw Gerrera had done the initial kriffing, but Kallus was solely responsible for his complete failure to debrief the Spectres.

Blast, Draven had found some reason to reprimand him for _every single mission_ Kallus had been involved with so far. Was he such an incompetent? How in all the Sith hells had he risen as far as he had in the ISB if he was so utterly incapable?

It crossed his mind to steal a shuttle and just… leave. Leave the Rebellion, leave the war, leave the entire civilized galaxy. He knew enough. He could lose himself in the undesirable parts of the galaxy and never be seen again. He would never have to deal with another Imperial or Rebel or partisan of any sort.

No one would miss him. It would be easy. 

But it would be cowardly. Alexsandr Kallus couldn’t simply run away from his problems. He’d never done that before and he certainly wasn’t about to start anytime soon.

Kallus had chosen to leave the Empire. He’d chosen to support the Rebellion. He’d made his decision and he’d see it through until either the war ended or he died.

_And let’s be frank, the only way this **can** end is in death._

Kallus burst out of the temple and stopped, taking a deep breath of crisp evening air. 

Maybe he was wrong. The Empire, as megalithic and all-encompassing as it was, still viewed the Rebellion as a credible threat. Oh, it worked to make the average citizen think the Rebellion was nothing but a bunch of ineffective, backward yokels, but Kallus knew the resources devoted to stamping out rebellion. He’d _been_ one of those resources for years.

If rebellion wasn’t a true danger to the Empire, the ISB wouldn’t exist. Perhaps some Rebels would see the other side of the war, after all.

Kallus didn’t delude himself that he’d be one of those Rebels. He intended to be on the front lines, helping lop off bits and pieces of the Empire as they went, which meant his life expectancy was disappointingly low.

But some Rebels…

Across the landing field, Kallus spotted the _Ghost_.

The Spectres were clever, resourceful, and scarily well-balanced when it came to talents and skills. Even if some of them vexed Kallus, he had to admit the odds of their survival were good.

Better than his, certainly.

Kallus sighed. He’d handled their debriefing poorly. He’d let himself be provoked by Bridger’s sarcasm. He’d made a nasty comment and snapped at Zeb.

He hadn’t meant any of it.

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Kallus took another deep breath. Zeb deserved an apology. All the Spectres did, to be honest, but knowing Zeb, he probably took Kallus’s remark personally. The others could be dealt with _after_ talking to Zeb.

Best find the lasat and apologize before the night was out. The last thing Kallus wanted was for Zeb to go to bed upset with him – who knew the next chance Kallus would have to talk with him? Now that the Spectres were reunited, Command would probably keep them hopping from mission to mission.

It _was_ what they were good at, after all.

Kallus picked his way across the field, heading unerringly towards the _Ghost_.

The ship stood open, cool light spilling out into the orange-hued Yavin IV evening. Carefully, Kallus made his way up the ramp and into the empty hold.

The ship was silent and still. Kallus stood quiet for a moment, hoping to hear Zeb’s voice deeper in the ship, or perhaps the sound of the lasat walking up the ramp behind him.

Nothing.

Perhaps they were already in bed. Perhaps they were all in the mess together. Perhaps they’d all gone to the jungle clearing that served as Massassi Base’s tapcafe. There really was no telling, Kallus knew.

Disheartened, he turned to leave.

A voice from above stopped him. “Kallus?”

Kallus turned to see Kanan standing on the walk overlooking the hold. How the Jedi had gotten there without Kallus hearing him was a mystery, but Kallus wasn’t going to question it. “Jarrus,” he said, trying to keep his voice pleasant.

Possibly it was that carved mask, possibly it was the way he seemed to see straight through a person anyway, but Kallus found Kanan even more unnerving blind than he ever had sighted. Surely the Jedi had gone through some period of adjustment, but from where Kallus sat, Kanan seemed to have transitioned smoothly from a volatile Jedi fighter to someone deeper and more sure of himself and his powers. Someone incredibly dangerous.

Kallus shivered.

“What are you looking for, Kallus?” Kanan asked.

_‘What are you looking for?’ Not ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘What do you want?’_

“I, uh– I was hoping to speak with Garazeb,” Kallus confessed, aware it didn’t quite answer Kanan’s question – that was a little _too_ personal, however. “I’m on my way out, though. I won’t be bothering you.”

“They’re at the tapcafe,” Kanan said. “They’ll be gone for a while, so why don’t you come on in?”

The invitation drew Kallus up short. Kanan shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t want Kallus around him or any of his crew after what happened at the debriefing. Shouldn’t sound so calm and genuine. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve got some tea on in the galley,” Kanan said. “There’s plenty for us both.”

Kallus watched, agape, as Kanan turned, disappearing into the depths of the _Ghost_.

If he were wise, he’d leave. He’d go straight to his bunk and try to sleep off the day, try to wake up fresh in the morning and start again. Try to forget the debriefing and move on.

If he were an idiot, he’d leave. He’d go to the tapcafe and get some lum and try to confront Zeb there, where he was surrounded by the others. Try to get the lasat to listen to him when they were both inebriated and defensive.

Kallus wasn’t quite either these days, however. His behavior as of late had proven that.

With a sigh, he hitched himself up the ladder and followed Kanan.

Even without the physical presence of the entire crew, the _Ghost_ felt more lived-in than it had just a few days prior. Little signs of inhabitation filled the crew areas: one of the cabins stood open, the smell of fresh paint wafting out. A Mandalorian jetpack slumped in a corner. And, as promised, the aroma of brewed tea drifted from the galley. A Deychin blend, with floral notes, if Kallus’s nose was right.

And it was always right. The ISB had seen to that.

Kanan was already pouring two mugs, mismatched in color and design both, by the time Kallus entered the common area. It occurred to him that he ought to offer to assist Kanan with the drinks, but since Kanan hadn’t asked for help, Kallus held his tongue.

Kanan nodded toward the long bench seat and Kallus sat, perching on the end just in case he found reason to make a quick exit.

“Here,” Kanan said, handing Kallus a bright mug: red and pink and orange and yellow swirls, a vivid maelstrom of color and glaze. Kallus thought back over a year, before Bahryn, before Zeb was anything but a nuisance in his life – _that’s a lie, Alexsandr_ – to the moment he thought he’d won. The moment the _Ghost_ flew into an imploded star cluster, presumably to its destruction.

The thought drew another shudder from Kallus, this one small and controlled so he didn’t spill his tea, but a shudder nonetheless.

A small smile formed on Kanan’s lips and Kallus got the nasty feeling the Jedi knew he’d reacted to the cup.

Kanan settled in on the opposite side of the long bench seat and left his tea to cool on the table.

Kallus wished Kanan would take off the mask; he’d seen him without it on the flight from Atollon and knew what his eyes looked like. The mask kept Kanan aloof and unreadable, leaving Kallus off-kilter and unsure how to act.

The Jedi knew exactly what he was doing, Kallus thought. He’d put credits on it.

“You feeling better?” Kanan asked.

Kallus frowned. “Am I feeling better?”

“From earlier,” Kanan said. “The debriefing seemed to get to you.”

“I’m fine,” Kallus said, staring at his tea. “I was stressed, that was all. Is Ezra all right?” _‘I shouldn’t have snapped at him.’ Say it. Just say it, Alexsandr! ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at him.’_

Kanan nodded. “He’ll be okay. He’s pretty resilient. Comes from growing up on the streets, I think.”

 _Don’t I know it?_ Kallus hummed a short note of agreement.

Kanan sat there, silent, a small smile on his face as Kallus grew increasingly uncomfortable. He wanted to apologize, but the words weren’t coming. He wanted to leave, but he didn’t want to be rude. He wanted to know _why_ Kanan had invited him in, but asking would be even ruder than leaving.

“As far as I know,” Kanan said suddenly, breaking the quiet, “I’m from Coruscant, too.”

Kallus coughed. “I’m sorry?”

Kanan leaned forward. “They never told us, at the Jedi Temple, what planets we were all from. Of course, for some of us, it was obvious – you don’t find many Ishi Tibs who weren’t born on Tibrin, right? – but humans could be from nearly anywhere. Since we didn’t know, Coruscant was the closest thing we had to a homeworld.”

Kallus frowned at Kanan, knowing the Jedi couldn’t see his expression. _Why are you telling me this?_ “I suppose that makes sense.”

Kanan laughed. “You’re confused, sorry. That was my clumsy lead-in to asking you where you grew up on Coruscant. I was curious if we were from the same part of the planet.”

To stall for time, Kallus picked up his tea, breathing in the vapors, trying to derive some calm from them. “I spent much of my time in the Federal District,” he said slowly. “ISB are headquartered there. I never had much cause to go to the Palace, however.”

Kanan’s mouth quirked. “It’s strange to think of the Temple where I grew up as being Palpatine’s home now,” he said. “But I know where the ISB headquarters are, Kallus. That’s not what I was asking.”

 _I know that._ Kallus closed his eyes, trying not to think back. 

He failed utterly. 

There’d been no sunlight in the deeper levels of Coruscant where Kallus had been born, more than a kilometer below the upper reaches. There, granite slugs roamed the walls and alleys, carving paths in the duracrete as they ate the droppings of those higher, more fortunate. There, fresh food was a luxury few could afford; families subsisted on manufactured fare (the Imperial diet had been a step up, really). There, it rained – filthy, acidic liquid that might have started out as water, that burned skin and clothes, leaving ashy traces wherever it fell.

Still, at least there they didn’t live in the lowest levels of the city, where stories told of monstrous creatures and twisted beings that would eat lost children. At their level, they still insisted on their _dignity_.

Things could always be worse, and they often were, but the pursuit of dignity kept their noses above the dirty, fetid water that threatened to drown them all.

“I’m from Sector H-46,” Kallus said quietly. He knew he didn’t have to say anything more; Kanan would know where that was.

Kanan knew. He leaned back the tiniest bit, a move that Kallus supposed meant surprise. “Sah’c Town? Really? That’s pretty close to the Temple.”

“It is.” Kallus tapped his mug with his fingertips, holding on just long enough for heat to seep into his skin. _Sah’c Town_. His lip curled at the name. For generations, the Sah’c family had owned everything in the sector, from the housing to the factories to the groceries and mercantiles. Money earned working for the Sah’cs went straight back to them as rent and subsistence spending. The Republic had prided itself on the eradication of slavery within its borders, but Kallus had known better. His parents had been slaves just as much as any beings kept by the Hutts.

That hypocrisy had been one of the reasons he’d been so happy to see the Republic fall.

Smiling as if he was oblivious to Kallus’s foul mood, Kanan said, “You know, it was tradition for us to sneak out of the Temple from time to time and go explore Coruscant. Sah’c Town was close enough to visit frequently.”

“Then you know how miserable it is.” A memory, almost forgotten, flitted across Kallus’s mind and the edges of his mouth twitched, the faintest hint of a smile. “I do remember the Jedi younglings sneaking around, actually. I roped a few of them into helping me hunt from time to time.”

“Borrats?”

“And hawk-bats and granite slugs,” Kallus confirmed. “The Sah’cs paid a bounty because they damaged their property.”

Those bounties had been important, if Kallus wanted to eat something other than the barest of cooked, watery grains. Almost as soon as he could walk, his mother had sent him out with his older sister to catch granite slugs a few levels down. His father had disapproved but what could he have done? His days were spent pouring ferrocrete for the Sah’cs, not with his family – at least not until that last month, when the tiny, sharp fibers built up in his lungs finally killed him.

Kallus took a sip of his tea. Still a touch too hot on his tongue, but Kallus preferred the burn to keeping his mind in the past. He’d left Sah’c Town on purpose and didn’t care to return, even in memory.

Unfortunately, Kanan wasn’t satisfied. “As I recall, hawk-bats were quite hard to catch. I had a friend – well, I suppose he was a friend, I only saw him a few times – in Sah’c Town that would let me help him hunt. I’d use the Force to convince the hawk-bats he had food and he’d shoot them when they got close enough.”

Kallus hummed. “That was a pretty standard tactic for any of us who managed to partner with a youngling for an afternoon.” _Even at such a young age, you were using and manipulating people, weren’t you, Alexsandr?_

He should stop talking, he recognized. There was no reason to tell the Jedi any more about his life than he already had. Hells, at the moment, Kanan knew more about his past than Zeb did, which seemed wrong for some reason, but Kanan _knew_ Sah’c Town. Kanan _knew_ how poor it had been, _knew_ the conditions that Kallus had emerged from.

And, most strangely, it sounded as if Kanan _cared_.

“You don’t hear of many people escaping Sah’c Town,” Kanan said, leaning forward again. “How’d you get out?”

“Good timing and good luck,” Kallus admitted after a moment’s thought. He took another sip of tea, letting the spicy liquid linger on his tongue as he formed his words. “Not long after my father died, a recruiter for the Republic Diplomatic School paid a visit – my older sister and I had scored unusually well on their aptitude test, at least for youth from our district. We were lucky she arrived when she did; any later and she’d have been searching for us on the streets instead of in an apartment.”

“You lost your home?”

The concern in Kanan’s voice grated. Kallus answered, but he stared at Kanan as he did so, silently willing the man to quit asking so many questions. “No. But my mother couldn’t support four children by herself. One way or another, my older sister and I had to leave the house.”

He'd been eleven, Katya thirteen, when it all happened. In a whirlwind two weeks, they’d gone from caring for their dying father to bringing home his ashes to leaving Sah’c Town for good. It’d taken him a few years to come to terms with the fact that his mother had been about to kick a child his age out to care for himself; at the time, he’d been sure of his abilities and willing to sacrifice his home if it meant Mila and Nadja were taken care of.

In the end, the School had been the best thing to happen to him, at least until the Republic became the Empire and he found himself on the fast track at the Royal Imperial Academy.

If Kanan was reading Kallus through the Force, he was ignoring Kallus’s wishes. “Is your family still there?” he asked.

Kallus gave serious thought to not answering. After a moment, however, he sighed. “No. Once I became ISB, I always sent a large portion of my pay to be split up between my mother and younger sisters.” He shrugged one shoulder, even though Kanan couldn’t see it. “I’m not married, I have no children to support, and I lived comfortably off a fraction of my salary. Over the years, it allowed them all to move out of Sah’c Town and into better parts of Imperial Center. I suppose they’ll have to find some other way to support themselves now, unless there’s a Rebellion pay scale I’m unaware of.”

Kanan snorted, laughing hard enough to slosh his tea over the edge of the mug. “I think getting fed and housed _is_ the Rebellion pay scale,” he said, regaining his composure. “Even when we were working on our own, all the money we made went straight back into the _Ghost_ and for supplies.”

“I suppose I won’t be converting my ISB retirement plan and investments, then,” Kallus said lightly, watching Kanan for his reaction.

The Jedi didn’t disappoint. Laughing even harder, he hit his knee with a fist, bumping the table as he did so.

From behind his mug, Kallus allowed himself a small smile. The moment was fleeting, but for a second there he’d felt like he’d had a conversation with a friend, with someone who approved of him and wanted his company.

It wasn’t true, he knew. He’d royally kriffed that up, but it was nice to feel like he belonged, just for a moment.

Exhaustion settled over him and he sighed. He really needed to talk to Zeb, but reliving his childhood with Kanan had him at the end of his mental rope. He no longer trusted himself to be able to say what needed to be said, at least not in the right tone, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to argue if that’s what the lasat wanted to do.

“I should get going,” he said, setting down the dregs of his tea and sliding out from behind the table. “I believe I’m working at the temple again tomorrow and I’ll regret it if I don’t get enough sleep.”

Kanan nodded. “I’ll tell Zeb you were looking for him.”

“No, don’t bother him with that,” Kallus said quickly. “I’ll find him some other time.” He stood for a moment, looking worriedly at the mug on the table. What did he do with it? 

“Leave it,” Kanan said, as if he knew exactly what was in Kallus’s mind.

Eyes flickering between the mug on the table and the unmoving, slightly unnerving Kanan, Kallus decided it was time to make his exit.

Kallus refused to run, but he did walk through the ship briskly, sliding down ladders where necessary, and out into the cool jungle night. He looked around briefly, in case Zeb was returning from the tapcafe, but there was no sign of the lasat.

With a last sigh, Kallus set off for his bunkroom. He’d catch Zeb tomorrow. Or the next day. Before the _Ghost_ ’s next mission, for sure.

He had to.

Zeb had really thought he’d talk to Kallus again after the debriefing. If not that night, then in the next couple of days surely.

It didn’t happen.

Oh, he _saw_ Kallus – across the landing field, loading up on the shuttle to the remote temple site, even sometimes at the mess hall – but he was always gone by the time Zeb got there.

It was supremely frustrating. Didn’t Kallus want to talk to him? That’s what Kanan had said: that Kallus had come looking for him while he’d been at the tapcafe with Hera and the kids. That Kallus had stayed just long enough for one cup of tea before leaving, saying he’d talk to Zeb later.

Kanan, the bastard, wouldn’t even tell Zeb what they’d talked about while Kallus was on the _Ghost_.

“Hey, big guy, are you just going to stand there?”

Zeb glanced over his shoulder. Sabine stood on the walk, hands on her hips and a wry smile on her face, sleep shirt hanging loosely off one shoulder.

“Thought you were going to go find Kallus,” she said. “Hera says hurry up so she can close up and we can all get some sleep.”

Zeb grumbled under his breath. “I’m goin’.”

“Good,” Sabine said. “But I’m going to close us up anyway if you take too long; I’m _tired_.”

So was Zeb. They’d been on a three day mission that had managed to completely throw off the crew’s day-night cycle, so that when they landed on Yavin IV just as dawn crept across the base, they were all ready to crawl into bed instead.

Zeb was determined to stay up a bit longer, though. Kallus should just be waking up, which meant he’d still be in his bunkroom, which meant he’d be able to catch him to talk over breakfast.

As a peace offering, he swung by the mess hall and picked up a cup of caf for Kallus. He had to guess at the amounts of sweetener and creamer, but he got it looking vaguely like the shade of light brown that Kallus seemed to favor. Carrying the hot cup carefully, he made his way to the dormitory halls.

Before he could knock on the door of Kallus’s room, it opened and a brown-haired human almost ran into Zeb as he tried to leave.

The human blinked sleepily, looking slowly up Zeb’s body. By the time he reached Zeb’s face, his eyes were wide.

“Well, hello,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “What can I help _you_ with?”

Zeb groaned. Kallus had told him that one of his roommates had a rampant xeno fetish; this must be him. “Kallus,” Zeb said shortly. “I need to talk to him.”

The man gave him a wink. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Zeb shifted uncomfortably, ears perked to hear what was happening in the still-dark room.

“K,” hissed the man. “Get up.”

A bed creaked. “Go away, Zaarin,” came Kallus’s voice, an irritated mumble.

“Your tall, purple, and handsome is waiting for you. Unless you want me to tell him to come join you in bed? Or if you don’t want that, he can join me–”

There was a sudden _thunk_ followed by a string of curses.

Zeb grinned. _That_ was definitely Kallus.

“ _Sithspit. Karabast. Shavit._ ” Another thump – that one sounded like Kallus sliding off the top bunk – and some shuffling.

Kallus appeared at the door moments later, still pulling on a shirt – backwards – hair mussed from sleep, looking only half-awake. “Garazeb?”

“Me,” Zeb confirmed. “Caf?”

“Oh thank stars.” Kallus took the cup gratefully. He sniffed at it, smiled tightly, and immediately started taking long swallows.

Zeb was surprised. Surely the caf was still hot enough to burn, but…

Well, he didn’t mind watching Kallus’s throat work.

After the caf was gone, Kallus blinked a few times and looked at Zeb again, a little more awake. “What are you doing here?”

Zeb gestured to Kallus’s forehead, where a pink spot was darkening. “You okay?”

Kallus rubbed his forehead, grimacing. “The ceiling is a little low for me,” he admitted. “I sometimes hit my head when I wake up.”

Zeb smiled, one side of his mouth quirked up. “Gonna give yourself a concussion if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Who says I haven’t already?” Kallus asked, the grimace transforming into a slight grin.

Zeb studied Kallus for a moment. Maybe it was because he’d caught the man off-guard, but there was no sign of the angry Intelligence officer who’d tried to debrief them nearly a week before. “Kanan told me you were trying to find me after the Jalindi mission,” he prompted.

Kallus’s brow furrowed. “It was nothing,” he said quickly.

“‘Scuse me.” The roommate who Zeb had run into first slid by Kallus, managing to bump into Zeb as he set off down the hallway.

“Nothing?” Zeb said, disbelieving.

Kallus’s frown became a full-blown scowl. “No,” he relented, watching the beings passing them in the hallway. “No, it wasn’t nothing. But it doesn’t need to be discussed here.”

“Okay,” said Zeb. “Wanna go to breakfast?”

“Still public.” Kallus shook his head. “Look, we’ll find another time. Didn’t you just get back?”

The roommate Zeb had met before – Otto – stuck his head out the door. “Coryn and I are about to leave if you want to stay here.”

From inside the room, “We’re hurrying!”

Kallus spun on Otto. “Get _out_ of my business,” he snapped. “Neither of you should be listening!”

Otto held up his hands. “Just tryin’ to help.”

Burying his face in his hands, Kallus muttered something – it sounded to Zeb like some repeated mantra to calm himself down.

“They’re right,” Zeb said. “If you want privacy, we can stay here.”

Kallus breathed deeply and lowered his hands, revealing reddened cheeks and a defeated expression. “Fine. Come on in.” He stepped aside and held the door open so Zeb could enter.

The two remaining roommates were both zipping up orange jumpsuits and strapping on the life support controls for their suits. Pilots’ helmets sat on their bunks.

“Shirt’s on backwards, K,” said the one Zeb didn’t know, a stocky human with a wide grin.

Kallus looked down, held his shirt out so he could see the collar, and cursed again as he quickly yanked the shirt off to flip it around.

Zeb probably should have looked away. It would have been the polite thing to do.

But he was tired and that first flash of Kallus’s pale midsection caught his eyes. Zeb watched, appreciating the expanse of bare skin. Those tan spots on Kallus’s face and arms covered his torso as well, and while Zeb made a note to remember to ask Sabine what they were called, what really caught his attention were the scars.

_You’ve seen his scars before, Zeb, in the shower. Let the man change his shirt in peace._

Reasoning with himself didn’t work. Zeb’s eyes were drawn not to the torture scars, the vibroblade slashes or blaster burns, but to the claw marks that crossed Kallus’s stomach. It hadn’t been hard to piece together from the little things Kallus had said that those scars came from Saw Gerrera’s lasat mercenary.

Within a few seconds, Kallus had righted his shirt. He looked at Zeb curiously as he tugged the bottom hem down over the waist of his pajamas.

A snort came from the bunk behind Kallus; the pilot Zeb didn’t know was pulling on his boots and shaking his head. 

Kallus stiffened, looking at the ceiling in frustration. “What is it, Coryn?”

“Nothin’,” Coryn said. “Just wondering if I should tell the shuttle not to wait for you.”

“I’ll send that message myself,” Kallus said stiffly.

“Oh, so you _are_ gonna skip out?” asked Otto.

“Not that I report to either of you, but I’ll work in Intelligence today,” Kallus said. “There’s always something to be done there.”

“Not to mention it starts later,” muttered Otto.

“What was that?”

“Calm down, K,” said Coryn, standing and grabbing his helmet. “We just want you to have fun and clean up when you’re through.”

Otto clapped Kallus on the shoulder as he walked to the door. “Use Coryn’s bed, not mine. You’re big motherkriffers; you’ll break something.”

Kallus turned redder and the pilots laughed as they left.

Once the door shut behind them, Kallus spoke tightly. “I apologize for them.”

Zeb didn’t want to admit they’d made his fur ruffle in embarrassment, as well. “They’re pilots. They’re all like that. It’s okay,” he reasoned. “It’s good you’ve made friends with them. I know you were saying they used to bother you.”

“Friends?” Kallus barked a laugh. “You call that friendship? No, I’m simply an easy target.”

“Looked to me like they’re trying to be your friends.”

Kallus shook his head. “I’ve come to realize that I do miss a few things from the Empire. Being able to walk into a situation and get things done without bureaucratic interference, for example. But more than that?” He looked up at Zeb through mussed hair. “I miss having a cabin to myself.”

Zeb returned Kallus’s small smile. “I know what you mean. Used to have my own before we picked up Ezra.”

Kallus nodded and moved the pillow on the nearest bed, the one Zeb thought was Coryn’s. He sat, leaving plenty of room for Zeb to join him. But then again, there was a whole other bed on the next wall that Zeb could use; Kallus was making no overt gestures to invite him to sit by him.

_Karabast, he’s not going to bite if you sit next to him. He left room; he probably means for you to sit there._

Carefully, Zeb sat down on the foot of the bunk. The bedsprings squeaked under his weight but the frame didn’t shift.

“K?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“It was better than their other suggestions,” Kallus said. He hung his head. “I need to apologize, Garazeb. I said things I shouldn’t have. I was stressed and angry and I lashed out.”

Zeb was quiet as he mulled over the apology. He watched as Kallus’s hand snuck across his stomach to rub right where those claw marks would be. Did Kallus even realize he was doing that?

The Kallus he’d seen so far that morning was nothing like the Kallus who’d yelled at them, who’d made the ‘your kind’ comment. He was looking at _Kal_ , who’d worked at the temple with him for weeks, who’d loosened up and started acting like he belonged in the Rebellion.

But after Kallus’s outburst in the debriefing, he couldn’t be quite sure which Kallus he was really talking to.

“There’s a couple problems with that, Kal,” he said, making sure to look the human in the eyes. “First, you prob’ly owe that apology to Ezra, not me. Second, you’re likely to do it again if you don’t deal with what made you lash out like that.”

Kallus pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Zeb.”

Zeb didn’t comment on Kallus’s use of his nickname, choosing to watch the man as he thought. The tiny muscle movements in his forehead and around his eyes seemed to be involuntary, but Zeb wasn’t quite sure how to interpret them.

“Talk to me about Saw,” Zeb prompted. “He started all this, didn’t he?”

At the mention of Saw’s name, Kallus _definitely_ squeezed his stomach where the scars were, green shirt bunching between his fingers. “Garazeb…”

Zeb had to stop himself from reaching out to Kallus – to squeeze his knee, to put a hand on his shoulder, _something_. A week ago, he might have, but things had changed. Kallus had put a distance between them and as much as Zeb wanted to go back to what they had, it was up to Kallus to actually make the next move.

Kallus looked up, eyes locked on Zeb’s face. “I told you about Onderon. What more is there to say?”

“You told me a little bit about Onderon,” Zeb agreed. “But I don’t think you told me the whole story.”

Kallus hunched over. “It was my first mission commanding a company of troopers, straight out of the Academy. I said that.”

“No,” Zeb said, “you left that part out. Tell me.”

With a huff, Kallus tossed his head back, staring at the ceiling. He chewed on his lower lip for a minute.

Zeb waited.

“The mission had been planned for a while. I’d had time to work with the troopers, get to know them all personally. Thought I needed to in order to be a good leader for them.”

“That’s good,” Zeb said, trying to be encouraging.

Kallus laughed bitterly. “No, it wasn’t. It just meant I recognized each of their voices as they pled for mercy. They all died screaming and I couldn’t do a karking thing to stop it.”

Zeb thought back to Bahryn, to Kallus’s stilted description of his first meeting with a lasat. “You said you couldn’t move?”

Kallus leaned forward and pulled up the back of his shirt, revealing an expansive blaster burn at the base of his spine. “Repeating cannon, power shot,” he said quietly, sitting back up after exposing the scar for only a moment. “Busted through my armor and left me with that. I spent nearly three weeks in a bacta tank afterward, but on the battlefield, I was left partially paralyzed.”

Well, _that_ would explain why Kallus hadn’t been able to move. Zeb didn’t quite know what to say. _At least you got better? Oops, sorry? That had to be terrifying? No, they all sound infantile._

Zeb didn’t have to say anything, though. Kallus kept talking on his own.

“I’d lost my blaster, but I could see it. I should have dragged myself to it, should have kept fighting, but I didn’t. I was too busy watching as that lasa– mercenary bayonetted the wounded with a bo-rifle. Some of my men tried to crawl away, but the mercenary was faster.”

A bo-rifle. That meant the merc had been Honor Guard at some point in their life. Zeb bared his teeth reflexively. When Kallus shot him an alarmed look, Zeb turned away until his face was under control again.

“When did they give you–” Zeb gestured to Kallus’s torso “–all that?”

Kallus’s hand moved to rub at the raised scars on his bicep, peeking out from beneath the short-sleeved shirt. “He found me last, I think. I… talked back and it made him angry. Instead of hitting me with the end of his bo-rifle, he decided to take a… _personal_ … hand in the matter.” Kallus traced the scars, fingers curled like claws as he relived the event. “He used his claws to tear through what was left of my armor. About tore through _me_. He left me alone after I passed out. Probably thought I was dead. I should have been.”

Zeb had no trouble imagining Kallus snapping off a smart comment instead of begging for his life; he’d certainly tried to do so on Bahryn. But that had been a rage-filled Kallus, not this slumped man who looked more disgusted than sad or angry. “Kal–”

Kallus shook his head. “No, Garazeb. Don’t you dare act _sympathetic_. I don’t deserve it. The truth was I’d been trained to withstand pain like that. But the simulators weren’t quite the same as actually being eviscerated and I succumbed. I gave in to the pain and the fear and didn’t fight back and let all my men die.” Kallus looked at Zeb, golden eyes large.

Zeb _wanted_ to say something comforting, but he was a warrior too. He knew Kallus would reject anything besides dismay and disappointment right then.

Zeb couldn’t find any disappointment in himself, however.

“When I woke up weeks later, back in one of the military hospitals on Coruscant, I thought my career was over. How could I ever make up for the shame of the losses on Onderon?”

It was time to interrupt. “How old were you?”

“What?” The question seemed to confuse Kallus.

“How old were you? I know how long ago Lasan was; this had to be before that. You had to still be young.”

Kallus studied his hands. “Eighteen.”

“Eighteen.” Zeb rubbed his face. “ _Karabast_. Kal, you were _Ezra’s_ age.”

Kallus scoffed. “And Ezra’s a lieutenant commander. He’s been fighting with you for three years now. Don’t tell me I was too young. By the standards of the Empire and the Rebellion both, eighteen is plenty old enough to fight. To lead.”

Zeb wanted to argue, he really did – but he couldn’t. On Lasan, he’d joined the Honor Guard when he was sixteen. All of the Spectres, really, had been fighting – for survival, against the Separatists, against the Empire – as young teens, if not as children.

He just hated to hear that _Kallus_ had been put through the same sort of thing. 

“Okay,” Zeb said, giving in. “Obviously that wasn’t the end of your career.”

“No,” Kallus agreed. “I devoted myself to never making those mistakes again. Trained in the torture simulators until I didn’t even whimper. Dedicated myself to my work – I was determined to be faster and smarter and tougher than anyone else coming out of the Academy. And I was. There was nothing I cared about more than being the best. And then…”

“And then?” Zeb met Kallus’s eyes, but the man looked away quickly.

“And then I was ISB-021, barely thirty years old, with plenty of potential for further advancement. Hells, I’d already turned down multiple promotions so I could stay in the field. I–” he paused and took a deep breath. “I was still trying to make up for Onderon, but that’s not what people saw.”

“You got promoted last year, didn’t you?” Zeb asked. “I don’t have the Imperial ranks memorized, but your blocks changed colors.”

Kallus allowed a brief smile. “You’re right, Garazeb, I was promoted. I took it because the desk job gave me access to more information to pass to the Rebellion than my previous position.”

Zeb elbowed Kallus’s arm. “Look at you, super spy Fulcrum.”

“Hardly. I was mediocre at best.” Kallus’s small grin belied his words, however.

“So that was when you got assigned to chase us down, right?” Zeb asked, picking up the previous conversation.

“That was when I was tasked with destroying your cell, yes.” Kallus combed his hands through his hair, finally doing away with the bedhead. “And that was when I discovered your cell contained a lasat.”

On his belt, Zeb’s comm buzzed, but he wasn’t about to interrupt Kallus to answer it. “Me,” he said instead.

“You.” Kallus fidgeted with his hands as he spoke. “And I became obsessed.”

“Because of me?” Zeb asked. “Because of Lasan?”

“Yes, somewhat. I–”

Zeb waited a moment in case Kallus would continue on his own, but he seemed to need some prompting. “What was it, Kal?”

Kallus looked away. “This sounds pretentious, but once I learned the makeup of your group, I considered you my only equal in the Spectres.” His face colored again, flushing a rosy pink as he explained. “You don’t use the Force or a ship or explosives. You’re a warrior who uses brute strength and talent and I fancied myself one, as well. You have a bo-rifle, so I knew you’d been a guardsman. I defeated one on Lasan but… I needed to defeat you, too. I needed to know–”

Zeb ignored his comm, buzzing again, unable to take his eyes off Kallus’s face.

Kallus’s shoulders drooped. “I needed to know that if I hadn’t been hurt, I could have defeated that mercenary on Onderon. That I could have protected my men.”

Zeb didn’t stop himself that time; he reached out and squeezed Kallus’s shoulder, leaving his hand to linger, Kallus’s shirt soft and warm. “You coulda,” he said. “Remember, you beat me our first fight.”

Kallus looked him in the face, blinking quickly. The light caught his eyes, showing Zeb the tears he was trying to hold back.

Quiet and still, they stared at each other. Zeb could almost swear there was static in the air running through his fur. It felt like something was about to happen.

And it did. 

Zeb yawned and the moment was broken.

“Kriff,” said Kallus, standing quickly and letting Zeb’s hand drop to the bed. “You just got back; you need to get back to the _Ghost_ and sleep. I need to get dressed and get to work. I’m sorry to make you listen to my complaining.”

Zeb reached out. “Kal, it’s okay. Relax.” He plucked his comm off his belt, and fingered the buttons to replay messages. He had a sneaking suspicion what the messages were, but there was only one way to be sure. “Just… let me check this.”

He hit the button and Hera’s voice played back. “ _Zeb, you’d better be on your way back because I’m about to close up.”_

A click and a new message.

” _I don’t care if you’re walking across the landing field right now, I’m **going to bed**. I’ll comm you when we open up again.”_

Yeah, that’s what Zeb had figured the comm calls meant.

Kallus crossed his arms, frowning. “This is my fault. I’m sorry.”

Zeb sighed. “It’s _fine_ , Kal. I’ll… go hide out with the mechanics and see if I can nap in a ship or something. I’ve slept in worse places.”

Shaking his head, blond hair fell in Kallus’s face. He brushed the strands back and looked off in the distance, thinking, for a few seconds. “Stay here,” he said, stumbling over the words. “You need sleep and we’re all gone during the day. Take my bed. I just have to grab clothes and then I’ll be off to the shower and you can get some rest.”

“You don’t have to–”

“If I’d talked to you before you left on this last mission, you wouldn’t be here,” Kallus said. “I meant to, but when I missed you that first night, it became harder to seek you out.”

Zeb didn’t argue right away, studying Kallus instead. The man seemed to be serious. “You wouldn’t mind? Ezra says I smell, you know. Don’t want your roommates to complain,” he joked.

Kallus loosened up a bit. “I’m aware of what Ezra says. I don’t hold his opinions.” He gestured to the bunk above Zeb. “Go to sleep, Garazeb. I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

Zeb blinked. “Okay, then,” he said, a little surprised. “Didn’t think you could give me orders, but…”

“I can’t,” Kallus said, rolling his eyes a little. “But if you take it as an order, maybe you won’t worry about it and _just get some rest_.”

Zeb nodded.

Kallus nodded back, letting out a deep breath. He went to the wall opposite his bed and knelt by a footlocker. Digging through it, he carefully pulled out some folded clothes and draped them over his arm. “Right,” he said. “I’m off.”

“Okay,” Zeb said. “Have a good day.”

“I’ll try.” Kallus bit his lip. “And, uh, Garazeb?”

Zeb watched him. “Yes?”

“Thank you for listening,” Kallus said. “You didn’t owe me that, especially after the way I treated you all.”

Zeb smiled. “That’s what friends do, Kal. I know the concept is new for you, but sticking together even when it gets tough is part of it.”

Kallus smiled weakly. “Sleep well, Garazeb.”

Kallus ducked out of the room and Zeb stood there for a minute, watching the door. When it became clear no one was returning, he took Kallus’s offer and climbed up to the top bunk.

It smelled of Kallus, musk and sweat and earth all mixed together. 

Rolling onto his stomach, Zeb buried his face in the pillow, breathed deep, and shut his eyes.

He fell asleep faster than usual for some reason.


	9. Chapter 9

Waking was, for once, a pleasant sensation. Kallus didn’t open his eyes right away as usual, choosing instead to pull his blanket up higher, right under his nose. A familiar not-quite-acrid tang surrounded him, making him smile.

Kallus had returned to his bunkroom the night before, earlier than usual, unsure if he hoped Zeb would be still there or if he’d be gone. He was gone, it turned out, leaving nothing but his scent soaked into Kallus’s pillow and blanket.

With no one waiting for him, he’d gone back up to the mess and eaten a lonely dinner before sneaking back to his desk to do more work. His plan to avoid his roommates by not returning until after they were in bed went off perfectly and he’d avoided all questions and teasing about Zeb’s visit that morning.

 _This_ morning, there would be no avoiding them unless they bought his sleeping-in act.

He wasn’t that lucky. Beneath him, Coryn’s bed creaked and his bunkmate stood, stretching and greeting the others.

“K,” he said, leaning against the foot of Kallus’s mattress. Kallus didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. “Are you really going to pretend to sleep in?”

“He’s gonna have a little trouble walking,” said Zaarin, “and he’s embarrassed. Stoic Captain Kallus actually has base desires.”

“Aw, did you actually get some, K? It’s about time,” Otto said, sounding genuinely happy.

Kallus scrunched his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. He was in a no-win situation. If he tried to correct them, they’d think he was covering. If he continued to fake sleep, they’d just joke until they got a response from him.

“I hope someday, someone torments you three the way you do me,” Kallus grumbled. Before throwing the blanket off him, he took one more surreptitious sniff.

“Nah,” said Coryn. “What you fail to realize is that _we’re_ your punishment for having been a big name Imp. Someday, we’ll drive the last of it out of you–”

“Or Captain Orrelios will,” interrupted Zaarin.

“­–and you’ll be joking right along with us. Then we’ll all tease Zaarin for being constantly horny.”

Zaarin grinned. “I _wish_ I had some horns to grab onto.”

Kallus made a disgusted noise and slid off his bunk, landing with a _thump_. “You’re incorrigible, Zaarin. And I remind all three of you that Captain Orrelios and I are friends, nothing more.”

He ignored the looks his roommates exchanged, crossing the room to the footlockers. Kallus dug out a fresh set of clothes, debating if he wanted to shower or not. He’d cleaned up the previous night before bed, but his usual routine included a morning shower. 

On the other hand, when his hair fell in his face, he got another whiff of Zeb’s scent, soaked up from the pillow.

 _I want to take my time with breakfast this morning_ , he told himself. _That’s why I’m going to skip a shower._

Unbothered by his roommates’ presences, Kallus changed into his clothes for the day. At some point in his life, he might have been modest, but years of communal living at schools and academies and the early ranks of the ISB had drilled modesty out of him. Zaarin and Coryn were also defectors and equally shameless. Only Otto made the effort to change in the refresher shower stalls.

Behind him, his roommates continued to joke, but since it was all at Kallus’s expense – and not Zeb’s – he tried to ignore it.

“Don’t forget to leave a boot outside the door next time you decide to have fun,” Coryn said as Kallus left the room.

Kallus shot him a rude hand gesture before closing the door behind him. Moments later, he stopped and shook his head. That had been beneath him, stooping to their level. His disgust with himself carried through breakfast and on to the shuttle for the temple site.

It would be good to work the temple for a day. Sweat and exertion and – now that the _Ghost_ crew was complete – no Zeb seemed attractive right that moment.

As much as Kallus enjoyed the lasat’s company, he’d told Zeb a lot the day before and hadn’t really processed it; Intelligence work kept his mind engaged, unlike the physical labor at the temple.

He hadn’t told anybody about Onderon since his mandated Imperial psychiatrist visit after the fact, to clear him for duty again. Why had he felt so comfortable talking to Zeb about it? Why did he feel Zeb needed to hear the whole story?

_It’s obvious, isn’t it, Alexsandr? That’s what friends do. If I asked Garazeb to tell one of his stories, he probably would. I merely don’t know what to do with friends because my life has never afforded me that luxury._

Kallus ruminated on that so deeply he didn’t notice the young man sidling up to him on the shuttle.

“Kallus.” Ezra didn’t sound put out, but neither did he sound excited.

“Commander Bridger,” Kallus said, reverting to ranks to be safe – and to remind the boy Kallus still outranked him. “What are you doing here?”

The shuttle doors closed and the repulsorlifts kicked in. Kallus grabbed a bar above his head to steady himself.

Ezra seemed to balance without any outward help. “Zeb’s talked about the temple; I thought I’d go check it out. Besides, I can always help lift rocks.” He waved his hands in front of him, an exaggerated imitation of using the Force.

Kallus studied Ezra. He’d grown up a lot since Kallus first saw him, on that transport where he’d laid a trap for the Spectres. His blue eyes still carried a lot of idealism, however – an idealism Kallus lost at a young age, if he ever had it.

He still owed the boy an apology. Maybe not on a crowded transport shuttle, but on site he could find privacy sometime before they left. Probably. 

The shuttle landed and they all filed out into the sunlight. The temple was finally looking like a base: landing fields cleared, rock walls rebuilt, vegetation cleared, and the large hangar room was nearly ready for ships. Kallus wasn’t going to work on any of that, however; he’d volunteered to help clear a path in the jungle so speeder bikes could more easily travel between the temple sites.

Hacking down vines and chopping fallen logs was much more satisfying than sweeping out hangars.

To Kallus’s surprise, Ezra followed him as he went to pick up a machete, short-handled vibro-ax, and lunch pack. 

“I’m not going to the temple,” Kallus said. “You won’t see much of it if you follow me.”

“Sure.” Ezra nodded. “What are you doing?”

The look on Ezra’s face said he knew the answer already, but Kallus gestured towards the start of the speeder path and gave a brief explanation.

Ezra patted his lightsaber. “Sounds like I can help there.”

Kallus was not keen on spending the day with Ezra, but the boy was right – a lightsaber would fell wood and vegetation much easier than his ax. It was coming to high summer on the moon, as well, which just made the work that much harder.

For once, using a lightsaber might be the wise move.

“Come on, then, Bridger,” Kallus said. He didn’t wait to see if Ezra followed him.

“You can call me Ezra. We’re not in some debriefing or anything.”

Kallus shot Ezra a look. The debriefing comment had been meant to needle him, he was sure of it. Kallus wasn’t sure what Ezra wanted to accomplish by following him today, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for the boy.

Half a kilometer down the trail was a large Massassi tree, lying in their way. The trunk was massive, easily two meters in diameter. Hacking at it with vibro-axes would take forever, Kallus knew.

“Should we just go around it?” asked one of the two other members of their party, a female Arkanian.

“Nah,” said Ezra. “I got this.” Held ready, his lightsaber came to life, its tell-tale buzz sending a hush over their area of the jungle. 

Kallus wondered if the fauna of Yavin IV had some form of ancestral memory of what lightsabers sounded like or if it was simply a new sound causing them all to quiet.

Ezra leapt to the top of the trunk as easily as if it were barely off the ground, looking back down and grinning.

Though their two companions might have been, Kallus was not impressed. He’d seen Ezra and Kanan jump to higher, more extraordinary heights in battle. He’d seen _Zeb_ make those same leaps without the aid of the Force.

Kallus set his things to the side of the path and looked up to the young Jedi. “Are you going to show us what that lightsaber can do?” he asked.

Ezra grinned. “You betcha.” He began working the lightsaber through the wood, slicing the trunk into sections. As he cut each section, he kicked them to the ground.

It took a minute for the sections to quit smoking and cool down enough to handle, so Kallus and the others waited patiently, hashing out the best plan for moving the sections aside While they waited, Kallus enjoyed the smell of burning wood; back at the Academy, they’d been taken camping to learn survival skills and Kallus had excelled at campfire building. He hadn’t had many chances to use that skill since he joined the ISB, however.

The tree sections Ezra was cutting out were large enough that Kallus probably ought to wait for help lifting them, but he didn’t bother. He’d hurt that night – and probably the next morning – but if they could get the tree taken care of in a single day, the progress would be worth it.

When the sun blazed directly above them, not yet hidden by Yavin itself, Kallus wiped his brow with his forearm and called for a halt. “Lunch,” he said simply.

Kallus took a seat on a section of log and tore open the flimsy metallic lunch satchel, pulling out the contents: a slightly squished sandwich, a jogan, and a protein bar. He set the jogan down by his water bottle to save for last.

He was not surprised when Ezra sat down next to him. He nodded to acknowledge the boy’s presence.

“Ezra,” he said, unwrapping his sandwich. _Apologize. He’s here and you won’t get a better chance._ Sweat dripped down his face again. Kallus used one hand to dry his face off with his shirt.

“Sithspit,” said Ezra, and Kallus realized he’d seen the scars. The lasat claw marks. “What happened to you? Piss off a Nexu?”

Kallus glared at Ezra.

Ezra shook his head and held up a hand. “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked. Forget I said anything.” His hand brushed his cheeks, the burn marks not quite as prominent: the sun and heat had reddened Ezra’s cheeks. “I got these from an Inquisitor, you know.”

“I do know,” Kallus said. “The _Grand_ Inquisitor.” Kallus had heard whispers of Darth Vader tormenting the Grand Inquisitor’s spirit after death, but surely not even a Sith could do that.

Then again, Kallus had seen Force-wielders perform feats both horrible and astounding. Perhaps it wasn’t that far-fetched a story after all.

Ezra’s comment was obviously a ploy to get Kallus to tell him about his scars. Kallus didn’t want to think about the experience again, but telling Ezra _would_ make it easier to explain his actions at the debriefing.

Biting his lip, Kallus raised his shirt just enough to show off the bottom scar, letting it drop again quickly. “My first mission was against Saw Gerrera’s partisans,” he said, blandly, trying to distance himself. “My unit was slaughtered; I was the only survivor. I received these scars from a mercenary Gerrera employed, a lasat. I believe he thought he’d killed me.”

“He didn’t know you’re a tough bastard to kill.”

Kallus looked at Ezra, unsure how to take that last comment, but the boy had a grin on his face. Kallus returned it half-heartedly. “I’ve been… _touchy_ about Saw Gerrera ever since. I know first-hand the dangers of underestimating Gerrera and when you agreed with his tactics in the briefing, it bothered me. That came out during the debriefing.”

Ezra eyed Kallus, the smile dropping. “You know, _you_ used a lot of those same tactics when you were Imperial.”

“And even a little after I left,” Kallus agreed. “But thanks to your Captains Syndulla and Orrelios, as well as others here on Yavin, I’ve come around to a different way of thinking.”

Ezra snorted. “Just call ‘em Hera and Zeb. We all know you and Zeb are friends, anyway.”

A comment on Zeb preferring the name Garazeb almost escaped his lips, but Kallus held it in. He wasn’t trying to antagonize Ezra. Kallus took a bite of sandwich, chewing it slowly, hoping Ezra would continue the conversation without his input.

“Okay, so you were pissed at Gerrera and not me last week,” Ezra said. “You were still rude.”

Kallus didn’t bother trying to argue. “I was. I apologize.”

Ezra turned to his own food. “But just so you know, I don’t agree with him anymore. Not after seeing what he was willing to do on that shipping station. He was going to kill all those people, including the technicians who didn’t _do_ anything.”

“I’m glad you see that.” Kallus considered Ezra appreciatively. The boy was a brat, according to Zeb and Kallus’s own observations, but he was also a successful tactician and natural leader. “The Rebellion needs more commanders like you.”

“You, too,” Ezra said.

“Oh, no,” Kallus said, shaking his head. “Ezra, I’ve been Imperial since the day you were born.”

“From what Rex said, that’s what helped you save Zeb,” Ezra said quietly. “That if it weren’t for you, Zeb would probably still be there.”

“Yes?” Kallus asked. “And what does Hera say? At the time she didn’t have much appreciation for my choices on that mission.”

Ezra ate some of his jogan before continuing. “Hera still doesn’t. But I think they’re both right. You did what you needed to do to get Zeb back and that was good. But–”

“But there might have been a better way to do it,” Kallus interjected. “Yes, I’ve already heard that from Garazeb.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said, nonplussed by the interruption. “I used the Dark Side some last year. Back when Kanan had just been blinded and wasn’t teaching me. It was great for letting me do what I wanted to do on missions, but I went overboard. Killed unnecessarily. And, luckily, I had friends to pull me back.”

Kallus eyed Ezra. “And I don’t. I’m aware of that, thank you.”

Ezra shook his head. “No, you do. You’ve got Zeb, for one. And, I think, you’ve got all of us on the _Ghost_ if you’ll let us. I mean, even if it’s only because of Zeb, it still counts.” He faced Kallus, looking him straight in the eyes. “And Zeb’s already pulled you back a lot.”

Kallus turned away, noticing that he’d nearly torn apart his sandwich, unaware. He stared at it, crumbs of bread falling to the ground, until he realized he’d been silent for an awkward amount of time.

Ezra had gone back to inhaling his lunch with gusto only a teenage boy could muster for such plain fare. If Kallus’s lack of a response bothered him, he wasn’t showing it.

 _Zeb **has** pulled me back_, Kallus thought. _The question is, has he pulled me back far enough or will I drag us both over the edge?_

Zeb’s mind blanked as they neared the tapcafe clearing. Amongst the din of dozens of Rebels chatting and drinking, he could clearly hear Kallus. Annoyed, irritated Kallus.

Suddenly something hit Zeb in the arm. “Hey, Yavin IV to Zeb. You there?”

Zeb looked down and Jaci was standing next to him, arms crossed, frowning slightly.

“Oh, I, uh. Lost my train of thought,” he admitted.

“Uh-huh,” she said, giving him a look. “You _were_ telling me why you think Y-wings are superior to X-wings.”

Zeb returned her frown and started walking again. “Well, for one–”

“And it can’t include the fact that you can’t fit in an X-wing,” interrupted Jaci, shaking a finger at him. “You know full well most pilots are smaller.”

“I don’t have to use that argument,” Zeb said. “They’re sturdier so they can take more hits, they can have a rear gunner setup, and they don’t all require astromechs to function.”

“They’re slower. They’re less maneuverable. They’re good for a bomber, but in a dogfight? I wouldn’t want to be in one,” Jaci countered. She looked up into the tapcafe and grinned. “Hey, there’s Fulcrum. Hey, Fulcrum!” She waved her arm enthusiastically, getting Kallus’s attention.

Zeb, of course, had already seen him. Kallus wasn’t alone – two of his roommates were with him – so he’d debated interrupting him.

Kallus looked up at Jaci’s hailing, but his eyes found Zeb’s. There was a little bit of quiet desperation in his expression, so Zeb didn’t argue when Jaci grabbed his arm and headed straight for Kallus’s table.

“Jaci, Garazeb,” Kallus said. “What brings you here?”

“Well, the booze, usually,” Jaci said, climbing onto one of the tall stools. “You?”

“Zaarin left the boot out,” said Otto.

Zeb frowned. “The boot?”

Coryn grinned. “Zaarin’s hooking up with that new gotal technician.”

“What, the guy we brought back from the Jalindi mission?” Zeb asked.

“That would be the one,” Kallus said drily. “Jaci, you have the displeasure of meeting my roommates Coryn and Otto. You’ve probably worked on their ships.”

She grinned. “Thought I recognized you two.”

Otto’s eyes lit up. “You’re Maks’s cousin!”

“Yup. Hopefully that doesn’t mean you hate me straight off.”

Coryn shook his head. “Nah. Anyone who can keep that kid in line is good.” He shot Jaci a charming smile.

Zeb met Kallus’s gaze and rolled his eyes. _Pilots, always thinking about sex._

Otto looked at his mug. “I’m getting a refill. Anyone else want anything?”

“I’ll go with you,” Jaci said, giving him a grin. “Whatcha want, Zeb?”

Zeb gave her his usual order, a wookiee-made liquor strong enough to knock a human on their ass. “Be careful not to spill it on yourself,” he warned.

She nodded and set off with Otto to the bar. Zeb watched as Otto walked a little closer to her than he needed to. Jaci didn’t back off, though, and Zeb knew she had a heavy spanner in her pocket if she needed to beat the man back – literally.

Zeb finally settled onto a stool, sitting next to Kallus. “How’re you?” he asked. 

“Surprisingly good,” said Kallus. “I had an actual nice conversation with Ezra today.”

“Oh no; was he bothering you?” Zeb winced. “I can talk to him.”

“No, it was fine,” Kallus said, placing one hand on Zeb’s arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

Zeb looked at Kallus’s hand and then at the human’s drink. He was almost through with his current half-liter and there was another empty mug in front of him. _Ah, yes. He wouldn’t touch me like this without alcohol._

“Ezra helped at the temple today,” Kallus said. “We worked on the speeder trail.”

“Wish I was back out there with you,” Zeb grumbled. “They’ve got me fixing up the A-wings after their last mission.”

Coryn raised his mug. “And this A-wing pilot thanks you for that.”

Zeb leaned forward. “So you’re a speed jockey?”

“I’ll jockey just about anything, but I prefer to take my time.” Coryn winked and Kallus groaned.

“Pilots.” Kallus leaned forward on the table, resting his forehead in his hands. “If I’d known pilots would be my punishment, I might’ve let Pryce send me out the airlock.”

Laughing, Coryn turned around, greeting another pilot walking by, this one in a red jumpsuit.

Zeb leaned in a little. “You don’t have to stay if they’re bothering you, y’know?”

“Where would I go?” Kallus asked. “Down to Intelligence? I need a shower before I go in polite company and I need in my room to get my shower things. The tapcafe’s open-air, which makes it about the only place to wait it out.”

“We could go to the _Ghost_ ,” Zeb suggested.

“Oh, that would be wonderful. Ezra as much as told me Hera’s still upset with me, so I don’t think I’ll be welcome on her ship.” Kallus finished off his drink. “No, I think imbibing copious amounts of alcohol is my best option.”

Zeb frowned, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything before Otto and Jaci returned.

Jaci slid two short glasses in front of him, both half-full with amber liquid. “Went ahead and got you two,” she said. “Figured you’d want both anyway.”

Otto hopped back onto his stool and handed a mug to Kallus. “Got you one, too.”

Zeb nodded thanks to Jaci and sipped the liquor, sharp and strong. It hit his stomach like a small fire – just what he’d wanted.

With a grin, Jaci settled into a seat between the two pilots across the table.

Zeb had to hold himself back from trying to eavesdrop. Even though Jaci was close to Sabine’s age and Zeb thought of her as a kid, she was actually an adult who could make her own decisions. Besides, Kallus would have said something if either of his roommates were actually _dangerous_ , right?

A glance at Kallus revealed that he was also watching the young trio with some concern.

Zeb leaned in and whispered, “They’re adults. Unless you know some reason we should stop this?”

Kallus shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Only that they’re assholes.”

“Ah.” Zeb took another drink. “She can handle assholes.”

“I know that,” Kallus muttered. “But I would like to get some sleep tonight, so if anything happens, it better be in _her_ bunkroom.”

Zeb couldn’t help it: he laughed loudly and heartily, clapping a hand on Kallus’s back jovially.

Kallus didn’t wince or pull away. 

Zeb didn’t, either.

Across the table, Jaci downed her lum and slammed the mug on the table, startling Zeb. “Okay, boys,” she said with a wide smile, “Sounds like your ships need some special attention. The only question is, do X-wings or A-wings have better endurance?”

“A-wings, of course,” said Coryn.

Otto laughed. “A-wings shoot their shot quickly and leave. X-wings have the staying power.”

Kallus coughed. Jaci shot him a look and he held up a hand in apology. “Swallowed wrong, sorry,” he said, blatantly lying.

Coryn laughed and helped Jaci slide off her stool. Jaci winked at Zeb and nodded slightly toward Kallus.

Zeb bared his teeth at her and waved his hand, gesturing for her to leave. He finished off his first glass of the Wookiee liquor, shaking his head a little as it burned his throat.

Jaci laughed and wrapped an arm around each man’s waist.

As they walked off, Kallus sighed and took another pull of his lomin-ale.

Zeb was feeling the effects of the liquor, he knew. It was strong stuff and he’d ordered it for that reason, but that meant he should probably keep his mouth shut right about then.

He didn’t.

“What?” Zeb asked. “Jealous of your roommates tonight?”

Kallus scowled. “I’m not jealous.”

“Then why are you moping?” Zeb looked around the tapcafe. It hurt a little to say the next part, but he was trying to be a good friend, not a creepy friend who wanted to keep Kallus all to himself. “I’m sure we can find you someone to spend the night with. What’s your preference? Men? Women? Human or non?”

Kallus buried his face in his hands and mumbled something.

“What was that?” Zeb asked, leaning in again.

Kallus peeked out from behind his fingers. “I said men and it doesn’t matter, but _none of that_ is important because I’m not looking to sleep with anyone tonight.”

Zeb froze, trying to digest what Kallus had just said. _He likes men and it doesn’t matter if they’re non-human._ He blinked. _That doesn’t matter. You’re **friends** and that’s all._

Zeb swallowed and tried to cover for his momentary pause. “Really? Why not?”

Kallus sat up again, shoulders slumped. “This is _war_ , Garazeb. We don’t have time for worries like that.”

“They do.” Zeb gestured toward the direction Jaci and the pilots had walked off.

“You’re insinuating that _you_ have found the time to have a– a _relationship_ amidst all this?” Kallus sounded incredulous.

Zeb’s fur ruffled. “Well, less relationship, more hookup. But yes.”

Kallus quirked his eyebrows. Zeb tried not to notice his eyes catching the lights around the bar, shining bright and golden.

“There are… places,” he said slowly. “Not brothels but _places_ where willing beings can meet up for a night. Or less.”

Kallus laughed and took a long swallow of his ale. “Of course. _Those_ places. I know of them. Always thought we should’ve had spies in them looking for Rebels. I was right.”

Zeb elbowed him gently. “Aren’t you glad no one listened?”

“I am now.” Kallus swayed a little in his seat. “Would’ve hated to meet you that way.”

“As opposed to when you captured Ezra?” Zeb snorted.

“As opposed to when you left Ezra,” Kallus countered. “I didn’t do anything to him except stick him in a cell.”

“Yup,” Zeb said, starting on his second drink. “Meeting on opposite sides of weapons and following that up with a proper bo-rifle battle. That’s us.”

“Auspicious start,” Kallus agreed.

It was barely perceptible, but Kallus was beginning to slur his words. Zeb watched him finish off his lomin-ale and reached out, stopping him from getting up. “Think you’ve had enough tonight, don’t you?”

Kallus glared back. “I would like to be drunk enough _not_ to notice the smell of sex when I try to go to sleep, thank you.”

Zeb thought about it and decided he had a point. At least with Ezra, he didn’t have to worry about that – or hadn’t yet. There were plenty of kids Ezra’s age on base; he would probably find someone sooner or later, when he wasn’t laser-focused on Jedi training and liberating Lothal.

A solution to Kallus’s problem presented itself in Zeb’s mind, but he wasn’t yet drunk enough to suggest it.

So Zeb polished off his liquor as quickly as he could manage.

Kallus stared at Zeb as the alcohol hit his system: a warm, comfortable feeling, a buzz in his head. “What?” he asked.

Kallus shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, looking back at his empty mugs. “Nothing.”

That didn’t sound like nothing. “You okay?” Zeb asked. He’d asked once already but maybe Kallus would answer differently with no one else at their table.

No answer.

Zeb dared to place a hand over Kallus’s. “You know you can tell me whatever,” he said. “I won’t share your secrets. I didn’t even tell the others you were on Bahryn until you told Kanan an’ Ezra about it.”

Kallus’s hand twitched, but he didn’t move it. “I know that, Garazeb.” He shook his head, strands of blond hair coming loose. “It’s nothing you can fix. I’ve got to deal with it myself.”

Zeb frowned but didn’t press the issue. He was finally drunk enough to present his idea. “Look, Kal,” he said. “If you don’t wanna go back to your bunk, come to the _Ghost_. You can have my bunk.”

“Your bunk? Where will you sleep?” Kallus looked suspicious.

Zeb dismissed his concern. “I’ll sleep in the common area. Done it plenty of times before. But this way, you don’t have to wait for a bed or deal with your roommates’… fun.”

“What would Ezra say?”

Zeb shrugged. “You said earlier you had a good talk with him today. Bet he’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kallus said. “I won’t put you out of your bed.”

 _There’s room enough for two_ , Zeb thought.

Kallus stood and stumbled right away.

Zeb reached over and grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Right. You’re comin’ with me.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine, Garazeb,” Kallus argued, though he didn’t resist when Zeb wrapped an arm around his back to help him stay upright as they walked.

Winding down the jungle path back to the base, Zeb held Kallus tight. The human was warm and just the right height for Zeb to support him without having to crouch.

 _We fit together_.

Zeb sighed and led the way to the _Ghost_. He got Kallus to the first ladder and let go. “Okay, mate, it’s your turn. Up you go.”

For a man who was having trouble standing still, Kallus climbed the ladder quite well. He knew where he was headed and stumbled straight to Zeb’s cabin.

Zeb glanced into the common area, where the rest of the Spectres and Rex were watching him with wide eyes. “It’s not what you think,” he protested. “His bunk is occupied and he needed a place to sleep.”

“You’re not giving him my bed!” Ezra complained.

Sabine snorted into her drink. Rex shook his head.

“You sure?” asked Hera softly.

Zeb bit his lip in frustration. “About what? Giving a friend a place to sleep? Yes, I’m sure.” With a huff, he went into his cabin and closed the door behind him.

Kallus was already flopped on the bed, eyes fluttering.

Zeb couldn’t help but smile.

And then, almost too quiet to hear: “Stay.”

“What?” Zeb crouched by the bed. “Kal, you don’t mean…”

“Kriff that,” Kallus said, definitely slurring this time, though Zeb wasn’t sure if it was from drink or sleepiness. “I won’ take your bed. We can share. Like Bahryn.”

Zeb reached out and brushed back some of Kallus’s hair so he could see the man’s eyes better. Kallus was focusing on him well enough and… well, Zeb wanted to say yes. “Are you sure? It would just be sleeping.”

“‘S what I meant,” Kallus said, almost gently. He stretched his hand out towards Zeb.

Zeb took the proffered hand with both of his, giving it a squeeze. “You have to bunch up so I can fit,” he said, smiling.

Kallus pulled his hand back and rolled on his side, right up against the wall, his back to Zeb.

The only thing keeping Zeb from questioning his sanity was the liquor in his system. He carefully slid into the bed, back to Kallus, the man a warm, comforting presence. 

It’d been years since he actually slept with anyone in an actual bed. Really, he’d thought he never would again, what with Lasan gone and all. Lira San gave him some hope, but… there was also Kallus. 

Kallus, who was out of reach.

Kallus, who liked men and non-humans.

Kallus, who might not be so out of reach after all.

Zeb forced himself to stop that line of thinking. They were friends, nothing more. It was more important that Kallus had a friend than Zeb had someone to sleep with.

Besides, maybe Kallus was right. Maybe on the front lines of a war _wasn’t_ the time and place to be thinking of a relationship.

Of course, there were other alternatives to relationships.

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ Zeb mentally chastised himself. _Don’t get hopes up. Don’t want. Don’t ask for what you can’t have._

Zeb sighed, leaned back a little to press against Kallus, enjoying the man’s presence, and closed his eyes.

Time to see if he could sleep with Kallus so close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're interested in the kind of "places" Zeb mentioned, I would suggest you check out this fic: [Just Between Enemies by chocolatemudkip](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169377/chapters/60993373)
> 
> ALSO [THIS CHAPTER GOT ART](https://twitter.com/birdlets_/status/1309534748524511233)! Thank you to the amazing birdlets_/vintaged!


	10. Chapter 10

_What the kriff happened last night?_

Kallus lay still in the dimly lit room, staring at a very close, very broad chest of purple fur, a familiar shade with dark stripes at the edges and a lighter lilac he hadn’t seen at the center.

He’d known where he was the second he woke up – on the _Ghost_ , in Zeb’s bed.

In Zeb’s arms.

Blinking a few times to bring Zeb into better focus, Kallus took stock of his position.

Physically, he was stuck between the wall and Zeb and the top bunk was low enough that he wouldn’t be able to crawl over Zeb even if he could escape Zeb’s grasp. He hadn’t gotten a shower last night like he’d wanted and could smell himself – jungle and sweat mixed together. That couldn’t be pleasant for Zeb, but Kallus couldn’t go anywhere until the lasat woke up.

Also, he _hurt_ all over.

Kallus knew some of that came from lifting the log segments out at the temple site. Some of it came from drinking too much of the strong lomin-ale. What he didn’t know was if some of it came from… other activities that might have happened in Zeb’s bed.

There were images, clinging to the edges of his memories, of more than just sleeping. Of kisses and touches and feeling someone inside him for the first time in a _very_ long time. They weren’t fully-formed memories, and fading quickly – had he dreamed all that? He couldn’t be sure.

But he was fully clothed and while Zeb’s chest was bare, his jumpsuit was rolled down only as far as his waist, which seemed to indicate nothing had happened between them.

That was a relief.

What Kallus _could_ recall was drinking with Zeb, talking of – _oh, stars_ – who he preferred to sleep with (but Zeb hadn’t reciprocated, had he?), and of Zeb’s active sex life during the Rebellion. 

Neither of those topics were ones he’d ever intended to breach with Zeb. But it had happened and now all Kallus could do was damage control. Somehow, he needed to make Zeb forget everything Kallus had said, every hint that Kallus might fancy him.

 _I’m not sure if it’d be worse if he never forgets or if he’s already forgotten,_ Kallus thought.

He itched to move, to escape, to go shower, to run far away, but…

But it was also nice where he was. Zeb, as always, was a comforting presence, his warmth and scent making Kallus remember Bahryn, where proximity to the lasat meant safety and survival, remember Atollon, where it meant care and comfort and _we lived_ , and remember their partnership working on the temple, where it meant friendship and smiles.

Anyway, Zeb was asleep. He couldn’t know he was holding Kallus. He couldn’t know that Kallus was enjoying the experience, a rarity in Kallus’s life. He couldn’t–

Zeb stirred and shifted. One large arm wrapped around Kallus’s shoulders, a four-fingered hand tangled in his hair, and a leg hitched over his waist, pulling him even closer. The lasat buried his face in the top of Kallus’s head, breathing loudly and deeply.

Kallus wanted to squirm away – he _reeked ­_ and surely Zeb didn’t want to smell that – but there was no getting away, not unless he worked at it.

Carefully, he managed to get his hands between their chests and pushed. “Garazeb,” he said softly.

Big green eyes opened halfway; Zeb was obviously still drowsy. “Hi,” he said, without moving.

Kallus tried not to smile, but failed. He tried not to curl his fingers in the soft fur of Zeb’s chest, but failed. “Good morning, Garazeb. You seem to have me trapped.”

Zeb hummed, still sleepy, still smiling softly. “Seems so.”

“ _Garazeb_ ,” Kallus said, a little more forcefully. “I need to leave. I need to go to work and I desperately need a shower first.”

“I’ll say!”

Zeb’s eyes snapped open and he rolled on his back, letting go of Kallus. Kallus looked upward, too.

“Karabast,” Zeb whispered. 

Kallus agreed.

Ezra waved a hand over the side of the bunk. “Bad enough all my stuff smells like Zeb, but you’re pretty rank, too. Zeb prob’ly likes it, but I don’t.”

Zeb smacked Ezra’s hand – with claws, it looked like. Ezra yelped and drew his hand back into the bunk.

“Stuff it, you little loth-rat,” Zeb grumbled.

“Hey, this is _my room too_!” Ezra insisted. “If you’re gonna sleep with someone, at least make sure they hit the sonic first, will you?”

Zeb glanced sheepishly back at Kallus. “Sorry ‘bout the kid.”

Kallus knew his cheeks were red; he’d felt the heat rise as soon as Ezra spoke up. He shook his head. “No, he’s right. I ought to get out of here. There will be stories enough as it is.” Groaning, he added, “My kriffing _roommates_. I’ll never hear the end of this.”

Zeb frowned slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I shouldn’ta brought you here. I shoulda taken you back to your bunk like you suggested.”

 _Yes, you should have_ , Kallus thought. _And then I wouldn’t have the memory of being held by you to haunt me._

Zeb must have read Kallus’s mind, because his face fell – just for a moment – and he rolled out of the bed. He offered Kallus a hand to climb out, but Kallus didn’t take it. He slid out of the bunk, blatantly ignoring Ezra.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” he said. _Thank you for reminding me what it feels like to be wanted, even if it was just in your sleep._

“Well, you were half-asleep on your feet and you weren’t gonna get rest in your bunkroom,” Zeb said with a shrug. “Made sense.”

Ezra rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Thank you, Ezra, for letting me stay in your cabin even though I stink,” he muttered, sing-song.

Zeb smacked his stomach hard, making the boy jump and curl up.

“Kriffing _ow_ , Zeb!”

“Behave!” Zeb fussed.

“I should get out of here,” Kallus said yet again, but this time he followed it up with action, pressing the door controls.

Bright artificial light flooded the cabin, making everyone blink. Kallus glanced at Zeb, nodded, and left, the door shutting behind him.

He started down the hallway to the hold ladder, but he heard his name, calm and unsurprised.

“Kallus.”

 _Karabast_. It was Hera, standing in the door to the common area with a mug of caf – the same mug Kanan had given him before, Kallus thought.

“Captain,” he said cautiously.

“You know that it’s Hera. Come have some caf with me,” she said in a voice that brooked no questions.

Kallus’s eyes grew wide. “Hera, I really need to get a show–”

“No, what you _really_ need to do is to come have some caf with me.”

Sensing he had no choice, Kallus followed Hera into the common area, making sure to keep across the room from where she sat.

She gestured to the galley. “Caf’s in there. Fix yourself a cup.”

Kallus walked into the galley and saw the caf maker ready to go. He selected a capsule of caf that was closest to the rich blend he’d preferred – and had access to – as an ISB agent. Dropping it in the machine to heat and brew, he studied the mugs.

The mugs presented a choice fraught with danger. What if he chose the wrong one? There were six mugs – seven counting Hera’s – which meant that there were no spares. Zeb didn’t drink caf, however, and surely wouldn’t mind Kallus using his mug.

Kallus studied the mismatched mugs. There was a plain one – probably Rex’s – and the jaig eyes mug that Kanan had used the other night. Three hand-painted mugs remained. One had a loth-cat face – Ezra’s? – another the firebird Sabine was so fond of leaving behind. The third one was simple stripes of a dingy green and yellow. 

_That one. That’s his armor and bodysuit._ Kallus grabbed the mug and filled it with caf, fixing it sweet and creamy.

Hera nodded approvingly at his choice. Kallus leaned against the wall away from Hera, cupping his hands around the mug to warm them while the caf cooled. He waited, curious what she needed to talk to him about. 

Hera was silent, too, watching him closely.

Kallus had dealt with beings scarier than Hera Syndulla, however, and held his ground.

They stood in silence until Sabine stumbled into the room and looked between the two of them. She sighed. “Will you two call it a draw if I start the conversation?” she asked. “Kallus, Zeb’s told us you’ve changed. He says you’re more Rebel than you were when we picked you up. Ezra and Kanan agree. Now, I don’t know, ‘cause I didn’t see you on that rescue mission, but Hera did. Hera?”

Hera crossed her arms. She prefaced her statement with, “I trust Zeb. But I also know his judgment is a little off when it comes to you, at least since Geonosis. I’d like to believe him, but I need to see this change for myself.”

Kallus arched his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected to be grilled on _that_ topic. “I know you well enough to know that you won’t believe what I say. I believe the best option might be for you to bring me on a mission and you can observe for yourself if I’ve changed or not.”

Now that they were talking, Sabine slipped through the middle of the room to the galley.

Hera nodded. “I think you’re right. We’ll find an upcoming mission you can tag along. But if you _haven’t_ changed, if you still think like an Imperial, I won’t hesitate to throw you out on your ass.”

“Don’t mind her,” said Rex, also wandering through. “She’s just worried about Zeb.”

“ _Rex_.”

“And the Rebellion,” Rex added smoothly.

“That’s better.” Hera leaned back against the bench seat.

Kallus sipped at the hot caf. “That’s perfectly fine, Hera. I understand your skepticism, although I admit, you have nothing to worry about between Garazeb and myself. We’re simply friends, nowhere near as close as you all are.”

Sabine, reentering the room, snorted into her mug of caf and Kallus fought to not flush again. 

Damn his fair skin, he hated being so obvious when faced with emotional things. He could face anything else with a straight face, but when it came to Zeb? He was helpless. They hadn’t trained for roman– _friendship_ in the ISB.

He set his half-empty caf mug down on the counter. “I really have to be leaving now, but please, let me know and I will happily join your next mission. I’d much rather you have an accurate take on my character, whatever that may be, than for you to keep harboring this resentment.” As soon as he said it, he knew he should have phrased it differently.

Hera’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit, but she didn’t respond.

Kallus knew he’d pay for the comment later, but for now, he was desperate to get a shower. He gave everyone a curt nod and wound his way out of the _Ghost._

Outside, the workday had already begun, the planet Yavin dominating the sky. There was enough foot traffic on the landing field that he didn’t garner any odd looks as he made his way to his bunk to _finally_ get his shower supplies. If he were lucky, his roommates would all be gone.

Unfortunately, Kallus was not lucky. Even before he opened the door, he heard them joking.

Silence fell in the room when he walked in, exactly the opposite of what Kallus expected. He stopped in the center of the room and looked around.

All three men were watching him, some form of a smile on every face.

Kallus shook his head and went to his footlocker, pulling out clean clothes and his shower caddy.

The others were still silent.

Kallus sighed. “Oh, for Force’s sake, _nothing happened._ ” He stood and faced his roommates.

They didn’t appear convinced.

“You _were_ gone all night,” Coryn said. “Where were you?”

“‘Cause we last saw you with Captain Orrelios,” Otto added, completely unnecessarily.

Zaarin crossed his arms. “I almost hate that I missed out on all that.”

Kallus scoffed. “You two–” he indicated Coryn and Otto “–were off with Jaci, and you were with that gotal, Zaarin, so none of you have room to say anything about what I might or might not have done last night. And like I said, nothing happened.”

“You didn’t answer Coryn’s question,” Otto said. “Where did you sleep, if not here?”

“You are neither my mother nor my supervisor,” Kallus pointed out. “I don’t need to report to you."

Zaarin nodded. “Look, we can smell the lasat on you, or at least I can. You were on the _Ghost_?”

“Sleep well?” asked Coryn innocently.

Kallus gripped his clothes tightly, aware he was wrinkling them. “Yes, Coryn, I slept fine. _Slept_ , as in actual sleep and nothing more. I only went to the _Ghost_ because I was tired and Zaarin had me locked out of here.”

Zaarin did not look the least bit apologetic.

Kallus’s chest constricted and he knew he would lose his temper if he stayed any longer. He was already wound tightly after…

Well, after waking up like he had and then being challenged by Hera.

Kallus stormed out of his bunkroom, not stopping until he was in a shower stall. Throwing his things down on the bench, he turned on the water, hot as it would go. Steam filled his stall and the water burned his skin, leaving red splotches where the shower spray hit him, but he needed that pain. Needed something to take his mind off of the memory of being in Zeb’s arms, of that soft fur between his fingers, of the soft way Zeb had greeted him upon waking. Needed to not think about how he was washing off Zeb’s scent and how that that seemed _wrong_ for some reason.

His efforts were for naught. Kallus couldn’t help but think about Zeb – in bed together, drunk at the tapcafe, sweaty from temple work, wet from bursting in on Kallus in _this very shower stall_.

Blast. He usually tried to avoid this stall, but he’d gone straight to it, hadn’t he?

The realization was all it took for him to accept that he wasn’t just doing a quick wash.

Standing under the spray, hot water pouring over him, running off thick strands of hair in his face, making him close his eyes, he reached down.

It didn’t take much for him to be fully hard. Really, all it took was combining the memories of touching Zeb’s chest with Zeb in the shower with him. The idea of running his fingers through all that wet fur… Kallus grasped at his chest with his free hand, the hair there a pale imitation of what Zeb would feel like.

He tried to be silent – he’d managed to be silent as a pubescent teenager in a common dormitory at the Republic School, he’d managed to be silent the rest of his life – but somehow silence was escaping him as he rubbed his thumb across his head and imagined it was fur touching him instead. Small grunts and whimpers spilled from his lips, mostly washed away by the sound of water.

 _Kriff_. He shouldn’t be thinking of Zeb like that. He should be more respectful of his friend, his friend who said nothing about his own preferences which probably meant he wasn’t attracted to human men – and even if he was, there was no reason to be attracted to _Kallus_.

But he’d dreamed – it had to have been a dream, surely they didn’t really screw each other before blacking out drunk – of sex with Zeb. They’d been lovely dreams, dreams that threatened to make him cry: dreams of being wanted by someone, dreams of almost _deserving_ someone good like Zeb.

They’d been dreams that made him stroke himself faster, harder, chasing that feeling of release, praying it would bring relief of both a physical and mental kind.

The image dancing behind his eyelids as he reached climax was of Zeb on his bed, undressed to the waist again, Kallus trailing kisses and caresses down his neck and chest and stomach until he reached the top of that jumpsuit, pulling it down so he could explore Zeb with his mouth.

He didn’t know what Zeb would look like undressed. He’d never thought to look up lasat genitalia, but to be honest, it didn’t matter, did it? Whatever Zeb had down there, Kallus would find a way to work with.

Just as his imagination pulled Zeb’s suit down his arched hips, Kallus peaked, the come washing away almost as soon as it spurted over his hand and onto his stomach. His knees faltered for a moment, nearly sending him to the ground.

Trembling, he reached out for the wall, breathing hard and supporting himself as he tried to compose himself.

Scalding water running down his back, cold tile under his hands, Kallus squeezed his eyes shut again. It was time to come clean with himself.

He _wanted_ Zeb. He wanted to bed the lasat, to pleasure him and experience whatever lasat anatomy had for him.

But more than that, he _wanted_ Zeb. He wanted to be more than friends. He wanted a relationship. He wanted a connection that would last through the war; hells, a connection that would give him a _reason_ to want to make it to the end of the war.

If only Zeb felt the same way.

The _Ghost_ crew scattered, with Zeb choosing to return to the mechanic’s pool for another day. He hadn’t been sure if Kallus planned to work Intelligence or at the temple, but he knew he wouldn’t see him in the hangar.

Elbows deep in a new X-wing – factory-new ships were a wonderful haul for the Rebellion, but for the mechanics they were just a whole new bundle of problems to find – Zeb’s mind kept wandering back to that morning.

He’d thought that waking up in Kallus’s bed alone had been nice, but waking to find the man himself in his arms? Smelling like he did – like _Kallus_ and not just soap – was even better. If Ezra hadn’t been in the room…

Well, if Ezra hadn’t been there, Zeb might have made a move of some sort. He wasn’t sure _what_ he would have done, but it would have been something. Having Kallus so close like that made him want to do things to the man, _with_ the man. 

Zeb couldn’t do that, though. He wanted to, but it wouldn’t be right. Kallus would have said something already if he felt similar, right? There’d been plenty of chances the night before and he’d been drunk enough to confess his preferences – but he didn’t confess a preference for Zeb.

Zeb shook his head, focusing on his work. It’d been all that talk of sex and hooking up and knowing so many other people were off enjoying themselves that had him thinking such things. If it’d just been him and Kallus drinking together, they’d have been fine. It was the damn kids that messed with his thoughts.

Speaking of, out of the corner of his eyes, Zeb saw Jaci approaching. He arched his brow at her and she grinned.

Peeking over the wing, barely tall enough to reach it, she waggled her eyebrows at him. “So you had fun last night, I hear.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I think you’re confusing me with yourself.”

Jaci laughed, eyes sparkling. “Am I? Last report is that you were seen taking Fulcrum to the _Ghost_.”

“And if I was?” Zeb fixed her with a stare.

“Oh?” She stood on her toes to lean in a little. “Do tell.”

“No.” Reaching back into the X-wing, he tried to ignore her, but Jaci didn’t leave.

She pulled up a ship ladder and climbed up onto the wing, peering into the starboard upper fusial thrust engine with him. “So you’re playing coy?”

Zeb set down his Louar clamp and stared at her again. “ _Jaci_. Nothing happened. I gave him a place to sleep since his bunk wasn’t available.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, no matter what did or didn’t happen.”

Pointing out a wire that needed to be grounded, Jaci hummed. “Maybe not. But we _are_ friends and friends talk. You know I don’t feed the gossip pools.”

Zeb swapped the clamp for the macro welder and let Jaci hold the wire while he fused it. “How come you’re almost always the one to come find me? There are thirty permanent mechanics and I could swear I’ve only worked with five of you.”

“Changing the subject. Nice!” She grinned again, this time a little sadly. “Honestly? Everyone else thinks you’re scary, especially when you come in all grumpy.”

Zeb sighed. He should have realized as much. His size was nice in battle, but he hated to hear he inadvertently intimidated allies, hated that he was naturally too alien, too large and frightening to others. He couldn’t change any of that about himself or even hide it; Lasat weren’t exactly made for that.

Jaci placed a hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I know better, at least. And I’ve told them all you’re a good guy, but it’d help if you smiled more. You gotta admit, you walk around frowning a lot.”

Unbidden, a dangerous thought crossed his mind. _Kal knows better, too. He gets it._

“When you’ve been through what I have, you’d frown, too,” Zeb grumped. “What’d you really come over here for? Just to rib me?”

“No, actually.” Jaci leaned back. “Cubber says to close up and quit for today. There’s some meeting or thing he’s got to go to so he’s letting us all have the afternoon.”

Zeb raised his brows. “Really? _Cubber_ is letting us quit early?” The human supervisory tech made speeches about using every minute available to work, not that the mechanics listened to him.

Jaci nodded. “Want help getting to a stopping point?”

“Yeah,” Zeb said. He pointed out a section and Jaci got to work, completely focused on the ship as if Zeb was no longer there.

Just a few minutes later, he screwed the engine panel back on and slid off the ship’s wing. 

Jaci brushed her hands together, rubbing at some oil stains. “Hey, Zeb?”

Zeb looked at her curiously.

“Look, uh. Whatever happened last night–”

“Nothing,” Zeb interrupted.

“ _Whatever_ happened,” Jaci repeated, “I hope it made you happy.”

With that, Jaci turned and left; Zeb stared after her, frowning curiously. _Did_ sharing a bed with and waking up next to Kallus actually make Zeb happy?

The easy answer was _yes_ , it did, but the answers in Zeb’s life were never easy, were they?

The walk back to the _Ghost_ was ponderous and slow, and dinner preparations even more so. It was Ezra’s turn to cook, but Zeb jumped in to help – and to make sure dinner was edible.

When food was served, the crew gathered in the common area, mostly fitting around the dejarik table, leaving Sabine sitting cross-legged against the far wall and Zeb standing in the corner, hunched over his plate.

Zeb was waiting for someone to make a comment about Kallus. He’d heard Hera and Kallus’s conversation through the walls that morning and the only person who hadn’t run into Kallus seemed to be Kanan. As much as he loved his family, there was no way they would leave well enough alone, so when Kanan broached the subject, Zeb thought he was ready.

“So Kallus spent the night, Zeb?”

Zeb’s lip twitched. Before he could answer, Ezra piped up. “ _Yes_ ,” he said, sounding put-upon. “In _my_ cabin.”

Sabine ducked her head, trying to hide her laughter, but Zeb heard it anyway; Hera frowned and Rex continued eating as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Good guy, that Rex.

“How’d that go?” Kanan asked.

“He slept. I slept. Despite his complaining, the kid slept,” Zeb grumbled. “Means it went just like it was supposed to.”

“He had an interesting proposition this morning,” Hera said. “Kallus wants to join us on a mission.”

 _He **wants** you to trust him_, Zeb thought. “That’s not such a bad idea.”

Ezra looked at Hera. “What for? Is he bored here and thinks we’ll be more exciting?”

“Be fair,” Sabine said. “We usually _are_ more exciting.”

“True.” Ezra leaned back, spoon hanging from his mouth.

“He wants to convince us he’s changed.” Hera watched Zeb as she spoke. “Since the Axxila mission, I suppose, though he needs to have changed since the Jalindi mission, as well.”

It occurred to Zeb that if Kallus never convinced Hera to trust him, at some point Zeb might have to make a choice. A devastating choice: as much as his heart wanted to stay with Kallus, he knew he’d choose his family. He’d lived alone thus far; he could stay that way.

“Is that something everyone would be comfortable with?” Hera continued.

Rex spoke up for the first time. “He hasn’t been on another mission since Axxila, has he? He’s been working that temple.”

“ _I’ve_ been working ‘that temple’,” Zeb pointed out.

“Why there?” Ezra asked. “Don’t they want him in Intelligence? Why’s he out there?”

 _Because it’s the closest thing he can get to being in the field while Thrawn’s still got that bounty out on him._ “The Empire still wants to find him,” Zeb said, staring down Ezra. “Operatives who don’t already have Death Marks get picked first.”

Kanan leaned forward. “All of _us_ have Death Marks after we supposedly assassinated Minister Tua,” he reminded the group.

“Speak for yourself,” said Rex.

“ _Kallus_ assassinated Minister Tua,” Sabine said carefully, not looking up at Zeb.

Zeb felt himself losing the argument. He looked at Kanan as if the Jedi could see him. “But he’s changed since then. Kanan, you told me you saw that much. And I’m tellin’ you he’s changed even more. We just gotta give him a chance to show it!”

Glancing around the room, he saw everyone was watching him with a touch of surprise at his outburst – well, Kansan didn’t seem surprised. 

“All of us screwed up before,” Zeb said, unable to keep it in. “We all lost or walked away from our pasts. But we all became better when you gave us a chance, Hera. I just want Kal to have the same chance. He’s smart and quick and a good fighter and knows more about the Empire than the rest of us combined. He’d be good on missions and you all know that.”

“It’s not a question of his skill,” Hera said. “It’s his methods and motivations.”

“And you don’t trust _me_ when I tell you he’s got the right ones.”

“That’s not–”

Zeb shook his head. “Yes, it is what you’re sayin’.” He bit his tongue before he said anything else, not wanting to truly anger anyone. _He_ was getting angry, though, and needed a break. Without waiting for dismissal, he set his bowl down and left, heading though the ship and out through the hold.

Behind him, Sabine called his name, but he didn’t stop until he was out in the darkness, just past the light thrown by the _Ghost_. He considered going to the tapcafe again, but he heard two sets of quick footsteps following him – they sounded like Hera and Sabine.

“Zeb.” Hera spoke more softly than she had in the common room. “Zeb, I wasn’t trying to make you angry.”

“Well, ya did,” he huffed.

Sabine stepped up beside him, bumping him with her shoulder. “You’re serious about being friends with Kallus, aren’t you?”

“I said that when you got back from Mandalore, didn’t I?” Zeb looked down at her, forcibly relaxing his expression. “I meant what I said in there. Kal might have a dirtier past than the rest of us, but we all turned out okay, didn’t we? Why not him, too?”

“It’s not just friendship, though, is it?” Hera asked. “If it was, you wouldn’t have tried to initiate courting when he got you out of that Imperial Complex, would you?”

Zeb shot a look Hera’s direction as a similar pang hit his heart.

“Rex told us about that,” Sabine said. “But you haven’t done anything since, have you?”

 _I followed him into the shower. I held him after he apologized and again while we slept. I **want** him._ “No.”

“So does that mean you’re not interested or…?”

Zeb sighed. “It means he needs a friend more than he needs anythin’ else, Sabine. I’m just tryin’ to be that for him.”

Hera stepped around front, arms crossed but a gentle expression on her face. “What do _you_ want?”

“What do you mean?”

Hera cocked her head. “You know what I mean. If you weren’t worried about what Kallus needs or doesn’t need, what would _you_ like to do? How do you honestly feel about him?”

It was the question Zeb didn’t want to answer. “I can’t say.”

“Yes, you can. I think you need to. You can’t keep holding this in.”

Zeb checked her face for signs of sarcasm. _Can’t keep holding it in? Hera, you’re the one who insists on keeping your relationship with Kanan quiet._

She was serious, apparently.

Sabine grabbed onto his arm, leaning against him. “It’s okay to like him. Weird, but okay.”

Zeb huffed. “Thanks.”

Hera hadn’t budged. “So what’s really going on?”

Looking past her to the secondary temple, the one where Kallus would be, Zeb let his shoulders slump. “I’m not sure it’s just liking him anymore,” he confessed. “I want him in my life. If it’s just as a friend, that’s okay. I’d like more, but I’ll take it.”

“What does Kallus think?” Sabine asked. “Is he still Imperial enough to be only interested in humans?”

Zeb laughed shortly, sadly. “No, that’s come up and he’s interested in men, species not important.”

Squeezing his arm, Sabine said cheerfully, “Well, that’s good, then!”

“He never said he was interested in _me_.”

“Zeb,” Hera said pointedly.

He bit back a sarcastic response.

“Have you asked him?”

“And ruin the friendship we do have when he’s not interested? No, I’m not doin’ that.” Zeb shook his head firmly. He wasn’t about to risk something that precious. “Kal is assertive enough he’d tell me if he was interested.”

“Are you sure?” Hera asked.

“I’m sure.” Zeb looked back at her. Eager to change the subject, he continued, “Just… give him a chance, Hera. For me.”

Hera watched him a moment before nodding. “I can do that. We’ll find a mission to bring him on before too long.”

Zeb swallowed. “You sure?”

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll give him another chance.”

“All right then,” Zeb said. “You can blame me if he doesn’t behave.”

“No, I’ll blame him.” Hera patted Zeb’s shoulder as she walked back into the ship. “For tricking you.”

Moments later, he heard Hera climbing the hold ladder, leaving Zeb alone with Sabine.

There’d been a question bothering him for a long time. “Sabine?”

“Yeah, big guy?”

He paused, suddenly shy of asking. “Those, uh. Those spots some humans have on their skin. The little brown ones. What are they called?”

Sabine chuckled, obviously aware of exactly why Zeb was asking. “Freckles. We call ‘em freckles.”

 _Freckles_. That was a nice term. Zeb could remember it – _would_ remember it every time he saw Kallus. _Someday_ , he thought, _I’d like to know how many freckles he has. I’ll count them myself._

_Someday._


	11. Chapter 11

It'd been a week of settling back in. The new temple was ready for the Y- and B-wing squadrons to move in, meaning Kallus was back in the Intelligence room every day. The _Ghost_ crew made themselves at home in the base, occasionally helping different areas but mostly sticking to themselves.

Even though he was surrounded by Rebels, Kallus felt almost as alone as he had as an ISB agent. He hadn’t minded it then, but back then, he hadn’t gotten used to seeing Zeb at least once a day, eating dinner with him if nothing else. Zeb didn’t come to the mess anymore; now that they were all back, the Spectres ate on the _Ghost_ , together.

Kallus was not invited.

It’d been a long week, but Kallus was doing his best to stay busy and distracted. At the moment, he was listening to captured Imperial transmissions, hoping to hear _something_ that would let him continue piecing together the puzzle he’d started back when Zeb first told him to ask questions.

He tapped the pad of flimsi on his desk with his stylus, glancing over his note headings. 

_Geonosis - > Krennic?_

_Reactor/Power Technicians - > Jedha _

_Kyber? Focus for a weapon?_

He didn’t have much to go on, but his gut told him that whatever had happened over Geonosis was big – and that big was connected to the giant Kyber crystal Gerrera had destroyed.

It was a long shot, but Kallus still listened to every intercepted transmission just in case. Just in case he could contribute something useful. Just in case they could head off whatever trouble Director Krennic was overseeing. _Just in case_.

For a frustrating three hours, Kallus sat at his desk, headphones on, checking the automatically generated transcriptions against what he was hearing. Around him, other operatives worked, chatted, ran errands. Jael walked by his desk a few times; she hadn’t grown any more friendly toward him, but she _had_ stopped giving him a murderous glare every time she saw him, so Kallus supposed that was an improvement.

It was almost the end of his shift, but instead of slacking off, Kallus was paying more attention than ever. Suddenly, he wasn’t just idly listening anymore. He sat up straight, rewinding the tapes over and over, pressing his headphones against his ears so he could be sure of what he was hearing.

 _I have to tell the Spectres. I have to tell_ Zeb _._

Zeb leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, the front of the chair lifted off the ground just a few centimeters. After a day of rain, it was a humid, damp night, but that didn’t bother Zeb; it reminded him of the rain season back on Lasan. Rain, dust, rain, dust, and more rain: as a young man he’d complained about Lasan’s seasonal extremes, but now that he was older – and Lasan was lost to him – he’d have lived through a hundred dust seasons happily.

All was calm on Yavin IV for the moment; peaceful but not quiet. Out in the jungle behind the _Ghost_ , birds called, runyips grunted as they foraged for food, and woolamanders chattered in the tree branches. On base, Rebels chatted as they made their way to the mess for dinner. And, coming from the main temple, someone ran his way.

Footsteps pounded rapidly against the tarmac and Zeb’s ears perked up. He didn’t have to peek to tell it was Kallus sprinting his direction, but he did anyway.

“Zeb!”

Zeb leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What’s the rush, Kal?”

“Zeb, I– _Kriff_ , I need to tell you– A transmission–” Kallus gasped for breath, unable to finish a sentence.

Standing smoothly, Zeb put a hand on Kallus’s shoulder. The human was in good shape and Zeb had rarely seen him out of breath; he must really have sprinted at full speed to be so worn out. “Slow down. What is it?”

“Lasat,” Kallus said after a moment to collect himself. “The Empire’s got three of them and they’re taking them to a black site prison, but I think if the _Ghost_ leaves within the hour, you can intercept the transport.”

Zeb knew he was squeezing Kallus’s shoulder painfully – the man was trying not to react, but he tried to pull away from Zeb anyway – but the mention of other lasat surprised him. “Where are they taking them? How do you know? Draven’s sending us?”

Kallus took another gulp of air. “There’s a prison on one of the Hyperborean moons, black site like I said. Well-defended; if they get to the moon, you probably can’t break them out. But if you catch the transport at a refueling stop…”

“Then we can get them,” Zeb finished, reluctantly moving his hand from Kallus’s shoulder. “And it’s our mission?”

Looking sheepish, Kallus shook his head. “Draven doesn’t know. I haven’t reported it to him yet. It seemed time sensitive so I wanted to get you the information.” He scrambled at a pocket, pulling out a datacard. “Coordinates are here. If you give that card to your droid, he can get you there on time.”

Zeb huffed. “If he wants to. You’re coming with us, right?”

Kallus looked a little surprised, but pleased. “If you’ll have me. Maybe–” He cut himself off, looking away. “Maybe I can help prevent the Empire from killing any more of your people.”

“Maybe you can,” Zeb said, watching him appreciatively. “How do you know they’re transporting lasat?”

“‘Disruptors’,” Kallus quoted. “It’s the code phrase they used for lasat when they – we – attacked Lasan.”

Zeb’s stomach lurched. “Really? _That’s_ the word they used to describe us?”

Kallus bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Zeb. But you and I both know the Empire isn’t very sensitive.” Bringing his gaze back to Zeb’s face, he added, “I thought it was just a reference to Lasan being in an uprising before they handed out the ion disruptors.”

“Uprising?” Zeb’s eyes narrowed.

Kallus held up his hands. “That was what they told us. I’m sure it was as wrong as everything else they told us, too, but we don’t have time for you to correct me now. Go, get the rest of the crew ready. I’ll be back as soon as I get my blaster power packs from my bunk.”

Unclenching his fists, Zeb nodded and took the datacard from Kallus. “I’ll give this to Hera. Everyone’s inside, getting ready for dinner. I’ll tell them to prep extra for you.”

Kallus looked grateful. He didn’t bother saying anything else before turning and running to the secondary temple.

Zeb watched him go, datacard held tightly in his hands. Once Kallus was out of sight, Zeb picked up his chair and his music player, carrying them in.

Chopper was in the hold. He rolled in a circle and blatted something at Zeb.

“Outta my way,” Zeb grumbled. “I’m givin’ this to Hera, not you.”

“Giving me what?” Hera slid down the ladder from the living area and leaned over the hold. 

Zeb stashed his things in a bulkhead storage compartment and held up the datacard. “Kal brought us a mission. Three lasat being transported to a prison by the Empire. We gotta hurry.”

Hera nodded. “Of course we do. Our departure codes on there?”

“I dunno,” Zeb admitted. “Kal said he brought this to us before he told General Draven about it.”

“So we’re sneaking out. Great,” Hera said. “Well, come on. Close up and I’ll get us out of here while you give Chopper the info.”

“Wait,” Zeb said. “Kal’s coming with us. You said he could join us on a mission.”

Hera frowned slightly. “ _A_ mission, Zeb. Not necessarily the _next_ mission. And…”

“And what?” Zeb asked, voice lowering in disappointment.

“Do you really want _Kallus_ helping take your people to Lira San? After what he did on Lasan? After he chased us into that star cluster in the first place?”

“Hera…” Zeb growled.

“He’s changed, I know. I still don’t think this is the mission we should test him on, though.”

Zeb sighed. Hera _was_ the captain, both in rank and in command of the _Ghost_. It wasn’t in him to outright defy her.

“Fine,” he said. “At least wait until he comes back so I can tell him?”

“Thought you said there wasn’t time to wait?” Hera asked. She gave him a sympathetic look. “It’ll be fine. He’ll understand. You can talk to him once we’ve taken these guys to Lira San.”

Hera climbed back up the ladder, leaving Zeb and Chopper alone in the hold. Zeb looked out the door just in case Kallus was on his way back yet.

No Kallus.

Chopper warbled again, a fussing tone.

“All right, all right,” grumped Zeb. He hit the controls and the ramp closed up. Moments later, the repulsorlifts kicked on.

Zeb crouched and inserted the datacard into Chopper. “Get up there and tell Hera where we’re going, will ya?”

The droid blatted rudely, but turned on his rocket booster, flying up to the cockpit.

“Sorry, Kal,” Zeb said softly. “Leaving you behind wasn’t my choice.”

The _Ghost_ was gone.

Kallus could see that from halfway across the field – he knew the ship didn’t have a cloaking device that would turn it invisible – but he walked the rest of the way anyhow.

He’d been gone less than ten minutes, most of which had been spent getting to and from his bunk. It hadn’t taken him long to pack up the two blasters the Rebellion allowed him to keep or to grab the ample power packs he’d stashed away.

Despite that, the _Ghost_ had left without him.

 _Zeb_ had left without him.

Zeb had been the one to bring up Kallus accompanying them; it didn’t make sense that he’d been lying about that. Unless–

–unless Zeb realized that bringing _Kallus_ on a mission to rescue _lasat_ was a mistake. Unless Zeb decided he didn’t trust Kallus with his people’s safety. Unless Zeb didn’t trust Kallus after all.

“ _Captain Kallus?”_

Slinging the power packs over his shoulder, Kallus plucked his comlink off his belt. “Yes, Captain Andor?” he asked, carefully keeping his disappointment from his voice.

Cassian spoke softly, as if he were trying not to be overheard. “Kallus, Draven wants to know where you are. You’re not on the _Ghost_ , are you?”

Kallus sighed. “No, Andor, I’m not.”

“Good. The Council are trying to figure out why they just blasted out of here without permission.” Cassian paused. “You’re not involved in that, right?”

Kallus shut his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Be back _now_ ,” Cassian said. “They want you in the main briefing room.”

Kallus clipped his comlink back to his belt. He wanted to go drop off his gear before facing Draven, but it didn’t sound like he had the time. Blasters strapped to his thighs and power packs hanging from his shoulder, he strode through the temple, ignoring the looks from passing Rebels, and found the turbolift to the temple’s top story. 

General Draven was waiting for him, but so were Senator Mothma, General Dodonna, and Admiral Ackbar.

If Kallus hadn’t suspected he was in trouble before, he knew it then.

Still, he marched in, head held high, ready to defend his decision. He didn’t have faith they’d agree with him, but he _had_ made a logical decision.

“Captain Kallus,” Ackbar said, stern yet not unkindly. “Can you tell us what has just happened with the _Ghost_ and its crew?”

Ah. So he was to incriminate himself. Kallus wouldn’t back down from that, however. “Yes, sir. I was monitoring Imperial transmissions and heard a certain code phrase – ‘disruptors’ – that I knew referred to lasat prisoners. The transmission gave me a time limit to act upon the information and I chose to give that information to Captain Syndulla so that her crew could make it in time to rescue the prisoners.”

Draven crossed his arm, brow furrowed. “Even though you _know_ proper protocol for such information, even such information with limited time for action?”

“Sir. I did break protocol, but only to follow my best judgment.”

Mon Mothma leaned forward, resting against the holo table. “Captain, we have these protocols for a reason. We would have assigned the mission to the crew or commando unit best suited for it.”

“I’m _sure_ this has nothing to do with the fact that you participated in the Siege of Lasan, because such an event would certainly cloud your judgment. Same for Captain Orrelios belonging to the _Ghost_ crew, whose judgment would be similarly clouded.”

Kallus gave Draven a curious look. “Sir, certainly Captain Orrelios is the best person to help receive any lasat refugees. I know personally that they have dealt with such refugees in the past.”

Draven’s frown deepened. “You have? From which side?”

The words stung, but apparently Mon Mothma and Ackbar both thought Draven went too far. While Ackbar blinked huge eyes, one fixed on Draven and the other on Kallus, Mon Mothma laid a hand on Draven’s arm to stop him.

Dodonna spoke up for the first time. “General, remember that we don’t officially hold former actions against our defectors or no one would leave the Empire for us.”

Draven breathed deeply. “Yes, sir. I’m simply disappointed in my operative breaking protocol in such a brazen fashion when he ought to have known better.”

“Understandable.” Mon Mothma looked back to Kallus. “Captain, you understand this was a serious breach of our rules. Normally this situation would call for a court martial. Some sort of punitive action is required on our part.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Kallus nodded. He supposed he should have expected that.

“If you don’t mind, Captain Kallus, please wait outside while we discuss how to approach this issue.” Dodonna gestured toward the door.

Kallus nodded again and briskly made his way out the door. Once it slid shut behind him, he leaned against the far wall and rubbed at his forehead. _Court martial. Of course. I never came close to one in the Empire but seems like I’m screwing everything up here in the Rebellion. Why **not** a court martial? At least it was for a good reason._

Court martial could mean demotion, prison time, loss of clearance and/or privileges. He couldn’t imagine that the Alliance was _too_ terribly strict, seeing as it was an all-volunteer military and beings could leave whenever they wanted, but he could also imagine the leadership making an example of him. A warning to other defectors, others who might dare act of their own accord outside proper channels.

The hall was silent, not even the usual Security guards making rounds. If it weren’t for the chrono on his wrist, the wait would have felt like hours. As it was, it was just under a single hour.

Finally, _finally_ , the door slid open again and Draven motioned for Kallus to rejoin them.

He took up position across the table from the leadership, standing straight and still, waiting to hear his fate.

Ackbar swiveled both eyes to look at Kallus. “Captain, we have decided not to court martial you. We’ve come up with an alternative assignment.”

_Alternative assignment. Probably kitchen duty for my foreseeable future. Demotion, maybe._

Draven crossed his arms. “I cannot have anyone in my Intelligence service who does not adhere to the chain of command. I need to be able to trust that all my people will put the good of the Rebellion over their personal desires.”

 _Which means I’m out._ “I understand, sir.”

Mon Mothma waited to catch his eyes. “Captain, we are reassigning you to commando unit Senth-3. They are short a commander and we know you have a history of leading units. I trust you’ll find this assignment satisfactory.”

Kallus blinked, shocked. Not a demotion, but a transfer back into the field?

“More than satisfactory, sir,” Kallus said. Being a commando – staying on the front lines, seeing action, keeping up his training – was actually preferable to his desk-bound Intelligence assignment. Leading men, however…

“Good,” said Dodonna. “Clear out your desk and tomorrow you’ll receive your new assignment and clearances.

Kallus recognized the dismissal. He saluted and quickly made his way down to the Intelligence room.

Cassian was waiting at Kallus’s desk, leaned against it with arms crossed. “Why’d you do it?”

Now that the stress was bleeding from his muscles, Kallus eyed his former coworker wearily. “Andor, we’ve worked together maybe five times, only one mission. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You don’t,” Cassian agreed. “But I’m asking anyway.”

Kallus sat down, opening drawers and pulling out the very few personal items he’d managed to accrue. He slid those over to one side, then started organizing datapads with stacks of flimsi notes so that whoever came along behind him could follow his work.

It became clear that Cassian _was_ going to wait him out.

Sighing, Kallus leaned back in his chair so he could see Cassian better. “Because I thought it was more important to save those lasat – and to let the right crew save the lasat – than to go through the official channels.”

Andor nodded shortly, neither smiling nor frowning. “Because it was more important than the Rebellion itself?” Kallus didn’t answer. Cassian nodded. “And Draven is kicking you out for that.”

Cassian’s last words were a statement, not a question. “I broke protocol. It’s entirely understandable.”

“Why not just wait?” Cassian asked. “You’re _good_ here.”

Kallus rubbed a temple with one finger, trying to ward off his budding headache. “Someday, Andor, I imagine you’ll find something that’s more important to the Rebellion than the others realize. To me, it was more important to save those lasat – which, yes, was also a personal wish – than it was to deal with bureaucracy. It was also more important to me to do what was _right_ than it was to keep my position in the Empire.”

Cassian patted the desk once and took Kallus’s stack of datapads and notes. “Maybe. But your mind is going to be wasted in the commandos.”

Kallus almost laughed. “You’ve never been in commandos, then. I won’t be wasted there at all.”

“I’ve seen you fight, Kallus. I know you can do that.”

“Come train with us,” Kallus suggested. “Unless I’m told I have to train the commandos a certain way, I’m putting them through the same exercises I used to do in the Empire. A little Imperial injection there ought to be a help.”

Cassian shrugged one shoulder. “We shall see,” he said. “Maybe I will.”

Kallus stood, grabbing his styli, his personal datapad, and the couple comlinks that constituted his personal items. “Keep everyone straight in here, Andor.”

Cassian nodded. “Take care, Kallus,” he said seriously.

 _I never do but thank you anyway_. Kallus inclined his head and left the room, trying to ignore the dozen sets of eyes bored into his back. Most of them he’d miss. Others, he simply hoped they wouldn’t screw up the Rebellion more than they already had.

Space above Lira San wasn’t black like most planets; it was warm and golden, surrounded by interstellar clouds generated by the nearby star cluster that left the entire planet bathed in light, day and night.

It was almost as beautiful as Lasan had been, at least to Zeb.

He docked the _Phantom II_ carefully and squeezed through the floor hatch back into the _Ghost._ The ship was loud, with nearly everyone shouting something as they used the peaceful system to enact emergency repairs.

Kanan was the only one not participating in repairs. “Hey, buddy,” he said when Zeb walked into the common area.

“Hey,” Zeb said, taking a seat until Hera realized he was back and put him to work.

“Everyone get settled?”

“Yup. Chava was there, of course,” Zeb said, rolling his eyes. “If they can put up with her, they’ll settle in just fine.”

Kanan faced him, the scar across his nose still angry and red. “You’re smiling.”

“How do you _know_ that?” Zeb asked. “And don’t say ‘the Force’.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t answer.”

“Fair enough,” Zeb said. “Yeah, I’m happy. It was the first time Len had ever seen so many lasat in his life. Kind of nice to be able to watch him discover what it feels like.” 

The family they’d rescued had included a six year old boy. Zeb hadn’t realized any of the Lasan refugees – once he'd realized there were still some out there – had built families in the Outer Rim rather than stay on the run. It was… well, it was heartwarming to see a young one again. Len had been interested in all the stories Zeb could think to tell him and had almost shot Chopper while Zeb showed him his bo-rifle.

Not that Zeb would have minded if Chopper got disintegrated.

Okay, maybe he would have minded a _little_.

Kanan cocked his head. Zeb’s ears twitched as he tried to locate the conversation Kanan was listening to. “Sounds like we’ve got the hyperdrive patched up again.”

“That’s good. Back to Yavin?”

“Back to Yavin,” said Hera, walking in. “Lot of help you two were.”

“You really want me to try to fix wiring like this?” Kanan smiled and Hera softened. 

“No,” she said. “I’m trying to keep this ship intact, not let it catch fire.”

Rex poked his head in. “Where’s Chopper? He’s got the coordinates to get us out of here. It’s still a day’s worth of jumps back to base.”

Hera pointed to the cockpit. “He was hiding in the nose turret last I saw him. Go get us started, Rex.” She stared at Zeb. “Are you good with our story?”

No, Zeb wasn’t, not really, but Hera had made a good argument. “As far as anyone on base knows, it was a trap, no lasat there.”

“ _Anyone_ ,” she warned. “That includes Kallus.”

Zeb nodded. “I know. The fewer people who know, the fewer people can reveal Lira San’s existence.” It felt wrong to hide Lira San from Kallus when he’d been so eager to join them and help rescue the lasat, but he’d agreed to follow Hera’s story.

“Well, it _was_ a trap,” Kanan pointed out. “We’re just leaving out the Murenas family and acting like it took us a lot longer to patch things up. No worse than we’ve done before.”

“Yeah.” Zeb scratched behind an ear. “No worse.”

The _Ghost_ should have returned already. The mission should have taken them less than a day.

And if Kallus hadn’t gotten himself kicked out of Intelligence, he might have known if they’d sent a message explaining their tardiness.

But he had and he was left making his way through the jungle to the commando training fields. If he were being honest – which he very much wasn’t at the moment – he would admit he was slightly terrified at the prospect of leading a unit again.

He shouldn’t be. Kallus had successfully led stormtrooper units for sixteen years. Onderon had been a single encounter with a ruthless enemy. It was an outlier.

Unfortunately, Kallus also knew how ruthless some Imperial troops could be. And even during those sixteen years of success, the screams of Onderon had echoed in his mind, just as they were doing while he walked.

The fields came in view and Kallus shoved away those thoughts, determined to get through the day with as much of his dignity intact as possible – necessary if he wanted his unit to trust him.

“K!”

Kallus groaned and tried to keep walking, but Zaarin jogged over to him, a predatory grin on his face. 

“So you’re taking over Senth-3?”

“I told you as much last night,” Kallus pointed out.

“You know I run Orenth-2,” Zaarin said. “Your guys have been with mine since that Toprawa mission.”

“The one where Commander Biabu was killed?” Kallus asked, even though the answer had been in the briefing material he’d received over breakfast.

“Yeah.” Zaarin’s smile turned glum. He clapped Kallus on the back and didn’t let go. “Here, let me show you around.”

“I think I know my way around,” Kallus protested.

“Do you? I didn’t think you’d ever been out here.”

He hadn’t, but he wasn’t about to tell Zaarin that.

“So our room is balanced now,” Zaarin said lightly. “Two commandos, two pilots.”

“I suppose so.”

Zaarin grinned wickedly. “Two commandos who both love xeno men. I knew we’d eventually become buddies.”

“I am not–” Kallus protested, but Zaarin ignored him.

His roommate pointed to makeshift buildings lining the fields. “Weaponry is in there. Try not to train live-fire if you can. I’d rather one of your nerf herding privates not shoot one of my guys in the back.”

“I think I can manage that.” Kallus spoke dully, hoping Zaarin would let him go.

No such luck. His roommate pointed to a dark-skinned woman – probably in her late twenties, Kallus thought – leading a group in exercises with short vibroblades. She and her group were very precise in their movements; he was impressed. 

“That’s Major Lissiri,” Zaarin said. “She’s in charge right now since we don’t have a general. She came from Atollon, actually, so you might have met her already.”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Kallus made a note of her appearance; he didn’t want to accidentally offend another commanding officer. He glanced at the flimsi in his hand again, a list of names he’d worked hard to memorize that morning. Only a couple had given him trouble, so he felt fairly confident in meeting his unit.

Zaarin led him to a group of about fifty practicing sparring. Kallus saw that they were good, but he thought he could teach them better if given the chance.

“They’ve got the Alliance training program down, so if you want to throw in anything you learned in the Empire, let me know. I want my guys to learn, too,” said Zaarin, finally dropping his arm so he could clap his hands.

The commandos stopped and stood at attention.

Zaarin waved to the right hand of the group. “Orenth-2 are these assholes over here; two squadrons of ‘em. You’ve got the rest, also two squadrons. Hey!” he called, loud enough to be heard in the back. “Senth-3, this is Captain Kallus, your new commander. You might know him from such groups as the ISB and Rebel Intelligence. Word is he can fight, so listen up!”

A small grumble ran through the group and Kallus knew he’d have to prove himself. _That makes sense. These commandos have probably been together for quite a while. I’m just now arriving. They need to see firsthand that I know what I’m doing._

Zaarin separated his group from Kallus’s, leaving Kallus alone.

He refused to show intimidation, so he stood there staring at the men and women in his unit. Once they started shifting impatiently, Kallus decided it’d been long enough.

“Lieutenant Zaarin was right. I trained in the Imperial Security Bureau and was a top-ranked agent. I worked in the field by preference, so I’m glad to be back there here in the Rebellion.” Kallus paused and looked across the group, catching a few eyes. “My own training is a combination of formal Imperial Academy combat – which it looks like you may already have down – as well as training taken from the Death Trooper camps and staff-wielding methods from around the galaxy. I plan to drill all of you in them if you’ll let me.”

Wind blew across the open field, carrying away any sounds of dissent or approval.

Kallus looked through the group again and laid his eyes on a formidable opponent: a stout drabatan in the usual tan fatigues. He was shorter than Kallus, but drabatans were a strong species. “What’s your name?” he asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew.

The drabatan rattled off a long name, more than twenty syllables long, then looked at Kallus expectantly.

Kallus repeated the name back perfectly – he’d practiced over breakfast, though not _quite_ as hard as he’d practiced saying ‘Garazeb’ correctly. “Corporal Paodok'Draba'Takat Sap'De'Rekti Nik'Linke'Ti' Ki'Vef'Nik'NeSevef'Li'Kek, better known as Pao?”

Around them the other commandos tittered and Kallus felt he’d passed a test when Pao grinned, large mouth stretching almost as wide as a tooka’s.

“Corporal Pao, care to demonstrate the hand-to-hand methods you’ve learned?” he asked.

“What, with you?” Pao asked, a little surprised.

“Yes,” Kallus said. “What better way for me to learn what skills you already know?”

Pao shrugged and dropped quickly, lashing out with a foot to knock Kallus off-balance.

Kallus was quicker, though, and leapt over the swept foot, bringing a fist down to tap Pao in the neck – or as close to his neck as he could get while Pao wore that kepi on his head.

Pao was a fierce opponent, but Kallus could already tell he probably had the edge over the drabatan. Still, the fight was enough to focus on his new job and get his mind off other things. 

Things like the fact that the _Ghost_ was late.

Yavin loomed large in the viewport when the _Ghost_ dropped out of hyperspace.

Zeb leaned against the back of Sabine’s seat, claws pricking at the synth-hide. They’d been gone four days and he was pretty sure Kallus had expected them to be back within one.

Kallus just hadn’t known they were going to Wild Space to drop off the Murenas family on Lira San. He couldn’t have known, because Zeb hadn’t told him anything about Lira San.

And he still wasn’t going to tell him anything.

Hera hailed the base and Zeb eyed the X-wings sent out to escort them in warily. That wasn’t usual procedure. Were they all in trouble?

If they were, the Rebellion wasn’t making a big deal of it. Their landing pad was clear, no Security waiting, and the X-wings had veered off as soon as Hera got landing clearance. Their chrono synced to local time; dinner was being served and night would come soon.

Zeb walked out from the ramp that he could turn back and see the damage to the _Ghost._ He winced. The ship wasn’t smoking, but it was a close thing; carbon scoring crisscrossed the hull, dents and cracks appeared in the thick metal sheeting, and he was pretty sure the shield refractor was a goner.

“Karabast,” said a soft voice next to him. “Did anyone get hurt? Are you all safe?”

Startling, Zeb looked to see that Kallus had snuck up next to him. The man wasn’t in his usual jacket; instead, he wore the tan fatigues of a Rebel commando. “What happened to you?” Zeb asked, completely forgetting Kallus’s questions.

“I did,” Kallus said calmly. “It’s all right, Garazeb. But the _Ghost…_? You’re all unhurt?”

Zeb wanted to sweep Kallus up in a hug, to preemptively comfort him, but he restrained himself. “Well, Chopper almost got smoked, but other than that we’re okay.”

Ezra walked down the ramp. “Thanks for sending us into a trap, Kallus.”

“Yeah,” said Sabine, following Ezra. “Good thing we’re good at getting out of those.”

Kallus made a strangled noise. “A trap?” He looked up at Zeb. “That’s the second trap I’ve sent you into. Oh, _kriff_ , Draven was right to get rid of me.”

“Draven got rid of you?” Zeb frowned. “Kal, _what happened_?”

Waving him off, Kallus turned to Hera and Kanan, just now walking down the ramp. “The lasat? What happened to them?”

“There never were any lasat,” Hera said, “at least as far as we know.”

Zeb reached out and put a hand on Kallus’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Kal. We’re all here. Chopper just needs to go to droid maintenance and he’ll be good as– well, good as old. Can hardly call him new.”

Kallus still looked stricken. “I apologize, Zeb. I suppose– I suppose I was so enthused that I found some of your people that I didn’t spend the time I should have checking sources.”

“It’s _okay_ ,” Zeb repeated.

“No, it’s not,” Kallus said, shaking his head. “I sent you into needless danger because I skimped on my job. You’ll be happy to know I can’t do that anymore. They’ve reassigned me to the commandos.”

Hera and Kanan stopped in front of them. “Commandos?” Kanan asked. “That actually seems like it’d be a better fit for you.”

“It is,” Kallus admitted. “But that doesn’t excuse my poor performance in Intelligence. I owe you my apologies.”

Hera studied him. “I’m glad you told us, Kallus,” she said finally. “If there had been lasat there, we would have wanted to take them to safety.”

“Safety,” he repeated, eyes widening. “Those lasat I tried to capture when I was ISB, when you took your ship into the star cluster – did you get them to safety?”

Zeb swallowed. “They’re safe,” he confirmed. _I just saw Chava yesterday, actually, and Gron has settled down with someone on Lira San._

“Where–” Kallus cut himself off, holding up a hand to stall Zeb. “No, don’t tell me. It’s safer for them if I don’t know where they are.”

“Good answer,” said Hera, actually smiling. “Kallus, if you still can, I want you to join our next mission, whatever it is.”

“You’re sure?” Zeb asked, looking at Hera sternly. “You mean that?”

“She does,” Kanan said, deftly stepping to the side when Hera tried to swat him.

Hera sighed and held a hand out to Kallus. “I mean it. You were trying to help when you sent us on this mission, you chose not to pursue what happened to the lasat, and for some unknown reason, my droid likes you, as do the rest of my family. We’ve made people crew for less than that.”

Kallus shook her hand, gripping it tightly. “Thank you, Captain.”

Hera smiled. “You’re not crew yet, though. You and Rex are allies, and we’ll protect you as one of us, but…”

“But I’m not a Spectre.” Kallus nodded. “Don’t worry, Hera, I am under no illusions there. I know my place.”

Zeb bit his lip. This was a huge step for Hera, but part of him had almost hoped for more. Bad enough that he had to lie to Kallus, bad enough that apparently Kallus had been punished for sending them off, but worse that Kallus didn’t yet feel he had a place with them.

That would change, Zeb was determined.


	12. Chapter 12

The high jungle temperatures had nothing to do with the swell of heat Zeb was experiencing; that was all due to the human walking down the U-wing ramp.

It’d been four months since Kallus had been transferred to the commandos and he’d seemed to flourish in his new role. He seemed more a Rebel every day, although the new responsibilities kept him busier than Intelligence work ever did. Between the _Ghost_ ’s missions and Kallus’s new unit, it was rare that they got to spend much time together. When they did, it was over a drink in the tapcafe or when Zeb stopped by to observe and assist Kallus’s training sessions.

However, it was very important to Zeb that he spent time with Kallus that exact day – and he was sure Kallus would feel the same way.

Kallus gave Zeb a weary smile when he saw him. “Hello, Garazeb,” he said, approaching with a helmet in his hands. His hair was loose and stringy from sweat, falling right back in his face every time Kallus tried to brush it back. “I can’t stay–”

“I know,” Zeb said, taking the helmet from Kallus. “You’ve got to debrief.”

“And shower,” Kallus added. “But all of that’s after I take Casrich to the medbay.”

Zeb looked over Kallus’s shoulder to see one of the men being brought out on a stretcher, the bed floating smoothly down the ramp. “What happened?”

Kallus wrinkled his nose. “We almost made it out with the ion cannons and no major injuries, but Casrich got a head injury. The droid couldn’t help him in the ship.” He sighed. “If I’d been more attentive–”

“I bet you were overly attentive,” Zeb said, gripping Kallus’s bicep. “You always are.”

Kallus glanced down at his hand with an inscrutable look on his face. “Perhaps.” He looked back up, expression saying he didn’t believe it. “I should go.”

Zeb didn’t let go. “Wait. Meet me at the tapcafe when you’re through? I thought– Well, you know what today is. I figure we could both use a drink.”

After a second, Kallus’s eyes went wide and he rocked back a little. “Today. Stars, it’s _Lasan_. Garazeb, I can’t. You should go be with your family, not me.”

“I’ve been with them for the past nine years. It’d be nice to spend the anniversary with someone who was there. Who understands how horrible it was.”

Kallus’s face twisted into something resembling dread. He gulped. “I’ve got to go,” he repeated, almost pleading. “I’ll comm you when I get through.”

Pulling away from Zeb’s grip, Kallus followed the hover-stretcher into the main temple.

Zeb frowned as he watched Kallus go. He hadn’t gotten a proper answer from the man; was he going to comm to meet him at the tapcafe or comm to blow him off?

_Guess I’ll just have to wait and see._

Zeb looked down and realized he still had Kallus’s helmet. He flipped it upside down and the smell of human sweat rose out of it. His fur ruffled and he frowned. He and Kallus had been on Yavin for six months and they’d spent a month of that working on the temple together. The man’s scent after exertion shouldn’t still affect him.

A quarren coming out of the U-wing stopped in front of Zeb, her hand out. “I’ll take that, if you want.”

Zeb nodded. He didn’t know where Kallus’s stuff went. “It’s Captain Kallus’s,” he said.

“I know,” she replied, blinking slowly. Zeb wasn’t sure if that was the quarren equivalent of a wink, but he got the feeling it was meant to be. “I’ll get it back to him.”

Zeb handed it off, a little gratefully. “Thanks.”

He waited, watching all the commandos disembarking the ship before he made his way back to the main hangar bay. Work – especially if he could strike up a conversation with Jaci or one of the pilots – would be a good distraction from memories while he waited to hear from Kallus.

With luck, Kallus would agree to meet him for that drink. Zeb hadn’t been kidding when he said they both needed one. Or two. Or a keg or two between them.

It was going to be a long night.

Kallus collapsed into a medbay chair and tried to rub the weariness from his eyes. He’d found an out of the way corner where he could still see the medic treating Casrich – at the moment, they were doing a preliminary brain scan. He wished he knew enough about medicine to tell if the scan results were positive or not from where he sat.

Resting his chin in his hands, he listened to Casrich answer the medic’s questions. Casrich was groggy, but coherent.

Kallus tensed as Casrich described how he got the injury – how he had been too close to a concussion blast, how the 2-1B droid on the ship applied bacta to his cuts and bruises, particularly the freely bleeding gash on his forehead, but couldn’t do anything about the concussion itself.

 _I should have seen that missile coming,_ Kallus thought. _I should have warned him. If I’d been facing the right direction, Casrich would be fine. I’ve been in the medbay with others far too many times. Am I really fit for leadership in the commandos, either? Couldn’t keep my first Imperial unit alive, can’t do the same for my first Rebel unit._

At his waist, his comlink buzzed. Kallus answered it in a whisper.

Draven’s voice came out. “Captain Kallus, your men are all in debrief. Where are you?”

Kallus sighed. “Medbay with one of my men. I’ll be along as soon as I hear he’s stable.”

Draven didn’t answer for a moment and Kallus thought he might be about to order Kallus to come debrief. “As soon as he’s stable,” Draven said instead. “Not too late. I’d like to get dinner tonight, Kallus.”

“Sir.” Kallus clipped the comlink back to his gear belt just in time for one of the medics to come over.

“Captain,” the rodian – the usual medic who talked to him in these cases – “your man is going to be fine. He just needs bacta and rest.”

Kallus nodded gratefully.

“And forgive me for saying it, but you could use some rest, too.”

Kallus’s head snapped up. “I’m fine,” he insisted.

The rodian’s snout twisted a little, his mouth becoming a thin line. “Sir, you look halfway to exhaustion. Get some rest or find some way to relax, please. I don’t want to see you in here next.”

“I–” Kallus stopped his protest. The medic was right; he was tired and tired would get him killed. “I’ll go to bed as soon as I’m through with my duties,” he promised. _I’ll just have to tell Garazeb I’m not joining him. He can spend his evening with someone much better than myself._

The medic nodded and left. Kallus stood, stretching his back as he did so, and made his way to the nearest turbolift. The amphitheater where briefings were held was on the subterranean level.

Draven spotted him as soon as he walked in and waved him over. As promised, all of his commandos were already in groups with Intelligence officers. Kallus spotted both Cassian and Jael; thankfully he didn’t have to deal with any of his former coworkers – just his former boss.

Kallus slid into the seat in front of Draven. “I’m sorry to make you wait, sir.”

Draven nodded and shuffled some flimsi around. “I’ve already heard from Lieutenant Towan about the order of events.”

Kallus frowned. “Do you need me then?”

Draven leaned forward. “I need you to realize that of all our commando units, yours typically has the fewest casualties on missions. You’re doing quite well leading them and your men know that. You need to keep that in mind, too.”

 _A single casualty is one too many. The Rebellion can’t spare **any** soldiers._ “Yes, sir.”

“Your tone tells me you aren’t listening to me.”

Kallus looked Draven in the eyes. “I hear you, sir. I simply disagree with your assessment.”

“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t in my department analyzing missions anymore,” Draven said. “I meant what I said, Captain. Stop beating yourself up over a single injury bad enough to need the medbay. All your other injured were treated just fine by the droid. That’s more than acceptable according to our parameters.”

Draven obviously wasn’t going to let Kallus off. Taking a deep breath, Kallus nodded. “I’ll endeavor to keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Draven set the papers down. “Now go get some rest, Captain.”

 _Again with the rest. I’m not that bad off, surely?_ Kallus stood, saluted, and slowly walked up the amphitheater steps. _I should comm Garazeb, let him know I’m not coming._

On the other hand, it’d been a fairly awful day so far, between a battle against two stormtrooper companies, stress and worry over his commandos, and then realizing he’d let the anniversary of Lasan sneak up on him.

A drink didn’t sound so bad, after all. That counted as relaxing, right?

Kallus stopped outside the amphitheater and dug out his comlink once more. He dialed in a familiar frequency.

“Kal!” Zeb sounded a little wary. “Tell me you’re on your way to the tapcafe.”

He couldn’t stop the smile growing on his face. “Almost. I’m out of debriefing but I desperately need a shower. I’ll meet you in an hour?”

“An hour. Gotcha. And Kal?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for coming. I really need this tonight.”

Kallus clutched the comlink to his chest, holding it tightly. _Why does he want me there? Why me? After what I did? I can’t tell him no, though. He deserves everything I can give him, even if I have no idea why._ “It’s my pleasure,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll see you there.”

He turned off the comlink before Zeb could reply, taking a moment to relearn how to breathe before he left for his bunkroom and the shower.

It was going to be a tough night to follow a tough day, but Alexsandr Kallus could get through it, he was certain. He had to, for Zeb’s sake.

When Kallus entered the tapcafe, Zeb already had a table and full bottles for them both. The table was round and too big for just two people, but it was out of the way, all the better for talking about difficult topics.

Kallus slid into a seat, leaving one spot free between him and Zeb. He looked fresh, hair damp but combed, smelling of soap and laundered clothes.

Zeb almost wished he hadn’t showered, but he knew how particular humans – and especially _this_ human – were about their hygiene. He slid Kallus’s drink over to him.

Kallus picked up the bottle, poured a little into his tumbler, and watched the amber liquid swirl. “Corellian whiskey?” he asked, eyebrow quirked. “A whole bottle of Whyren’s Reserve? This is top shelf stuff, Garazeb.”

“It’s a top shelf sort of night.” Zeb pointed out, taking a sip of his own – the same wookiee liquor he always favored, but it’d always been more expensive than the lomin-ale Kallus usually drank. The drink was heavy on his tongue, leaving a burn in his throat as he swallowed and a satisfying warmth in his belly. He tipped more liquor from his bottle, noting that he was already almost three quarters through. He’d need another bottle soon.

Kallus noticed it too. “I’ve got some catching up to do, it seems,” he said, picking up his drink and taking a long, slow swallow, obviously savoring the liquor.

To stop himself from staring, Zeb looked out into the crowded tapcafe. A few tables away, he spotted Jaci with Coryn and Otto, a fairly common sight the past few months. Otto spotted him and started to stand – probably to come join them, also not an odd event – but Jaci’s hand shot out and she stopped him.

Even though the current silence was a little awkward, Zeb was grateful. He didn’t really want company other than Kallus at the moment.

“Is the mission to Mon Cala still tomorrow?” Kallus asked.

Zeb nodded. “Yeah. Supposed to be a tough one, but we gotta get those relief supplies to them. You still coming?”

“My people already know they have the next two days off,” Kallus confirmed. “They earned it today.”

Another silence fell and Zeb sighed. It was obvious Kallus was nervous and trying to dance around the real topic of the evening, downing the whiskey faster than he normally drank. “Kal–” Zeb said, just as Kallus said his name.

Zeb gestured for Kallus to speak first.

Kallus’s expression was stricken, though he was trying – and failing – to control his face. “Garazeb,” he repeated. “What am I here for? Any memories I have, you don’t want to hear. I was _on the wrong side_. I know you’ve said you’ve forgiven me, but–”

Zeb growled, low and quiet. “Don’t finish that sentence,” he warned. “When will you believe me when I say I’ve forgiven you?”

“When I forgive myself,” Kallus said softly, mouth half hidden behind his glass as he swallowed the last of the whiskey. “I’ll go get us another round.”

Kallus was gone before Zeb could stop him. He watched the human go, feeling a sort of longing deep inside. A longing he couldn’t indulge. A longing he wanted to indulge, to grab Kallus and kiss his face, to tell him what that meant.

It had to be the drink, Zeb told himself. He’d never be so close to acting upon that urge otherwise.

If it wasn’t the drink, it was the night. The anniversary. Zeb wanted a distraction, wanted to think about anything but Lasan as it fell, as he failed his queen and his people. What better way than to clumsily proposition the human he ached for?

The human who’d been there on Lasan, too, helping it fall.

“Are you all right?”

Zeb blinked and looked up. Kallus slid another bottle over to him. “Yeah,” he said. “Just thinking.”

Kallus was kind enough to not press the issue. Instead, he asked for a different answer. “Tell me about Lasan? Before, when things were good? I never saw it except that one time.”

Zeb’s fingers curled tightly around the bottle as he refilled his tumbler. The glass was larger than the norm, large enough to fit in his hand without feeling too delicate. He didn’t say anything.

Kallus’s lips pressed together for a moment before he spoke again. “So it’s a no talking sort of night, is it?”

Zeb didn’t know, not really. He wanted to talk. He wanted to tell Kallus about festival days on Lasan, when the trees were filled with colorful flowers and ribbons, expansive tree houses lit up with flickering lights. He wanted to tell Kallus about the royal children, who treated him like an uncle rather than a guard. About his own niece and nephew, who–

Who died screaming because he couldn’t get to them soon enough.

Zeb didn’t _want_ to hear about Lasan from Kallus’s perspective. Didn’t want to know where on the planet he’d been stationed. Didn’t want to know if there was a chance Kallus had been one of the Imperials clearing out the capital city.

He’d wanted Kallus with him for the night, but at the moment, he was starting to wonder _why_ he’d needed the man’s company so desperately.

Still… the urge to talk was stronger than the urge to not know.

Zeb downed the full tumbler of liquor and started speaking. “It was the end of the yearly festival week,” he started, speaking slowly as he described the festivities and decorations, the dances and feasts, the traditions both new and old. _That’s why you caught us off-guard_ , he didn’t say.

Kallus said nothing either, just sipped at his whiskey as Zeb spoke, watching him closely. His face was carefully neutral, though Zeb spotted some tension in the corners of his eyes.

He was also tense and stressed, Zeb knew, so perhaps Kallus was just echoing Zeb’s own expression.

They were both a bottle and a half in, both reaching drunk rather than tipsy, and yet Zeb found that once he started talking, he didn’t want to quit.

“Your family?” Kallus prompted, his first words in a long while.

Zeb smiled, thinking back. “My gran was the head of the family. She survived everything but died not long after I joined the Spectres. She was over three hun’red dust seasons.”

Kallus’s eyes widened, his words slurring. “Three hundred years old? I didn’ know lasat had such life spans.”

Zeb shook his head, aware his speech was equally affected by the drink but not caring. “We don’t, not by the Standard calendar. There’re two dust seasons in a year and our years’re shorter than the Standard ones. Comes out to roughly one hun’red ten Standard years old when she died.”

Kallus frowned through the intoxication. “So that makes you…?”

“Hun’red and thirty-one dust seasons.”

“Stars.” Kallus leaned back, smiling. “Makes you sound ancient. I mean, ‘m only thirty-four an’ you’re–”

“Forty-two by yer reckonin’,” Zeb corrected. “Not _that_ old, ‘nless you ask Ezra an’ Sabine.”

Kallus nodded. “I knew that. Was in your file.”

His file. _Ugh._ He’d just about forgotten Kallus had been Imperial for a moment. “Had all our files memorized, did ya?”

“I did,” Kallus said, pouring out the last of his whiskey. “Yours espec’ly.” 

Zeb started to be surprised, but then a memory wormed its way to the front of his mind. “‘Cause I was your equal, or somethin’ like that?”

“Yes.” Kallus looked at him. “Or so I thought. I was wrong. You’re better ‘n me.”

Zeb shook his head again. “Nah. You beat me plenty. I jus’ had Jedi.”

“Not what I meant,” Kallus said. He stared at Zeb, eyes bright in the tapcafe lights, matching the golden sheen of his hair.

Zeb was beyond the point of drunkenness where he could exert some control over his impulses. He leaned towards Kallus, reaching out to run fingers through his hair. The strands separated under gentle claws, soft and loose.

Karabast, Zeb wanted to know what other parts of Kallus felt like under his fingers.

Kallus blinked slowly, giving Zeb the impression he was enjoying the touch as well. Suddenly, though, Kallus’s hand shot up, grabbing Zeb’s wrist. “Garazeb–”

“I’ll stop,” Zeb said quickly, but Kallus didn’t let him pull his arm back.

“Sleep with me,” Kallus said, stumbling over his words, as if he had to force them out – or perhaps he’d been trying to keep them in.

“What?” Zeb asked, unsure he’d heard correctly.

Kallus broke away, letting go of Zeb’s wrist and looking away. “Sithspit, I didn’t mean to say that.”

One finger under Kallus’s chin, Zeb guided his gaze back. “But you did. Ask me again.” _This time I’ll say the right thing._

“I shouldn’t,” Kallus argued. “But I already messed things up, didn’t I?”

 _No, you haven’t,_ Zeb thought. _Not if you’re asking what I hope you’re asking_.

Kallus closed his eyes and stilled. When he opened them again, he gave off the impression of being a little more sober. Zeb wasn’t so sure he believed it, though.

“I may not have experience with this,” Kallus started, speaking carefully, “but I understand sometimes friends can be… more. And it seems like tonight would be a night that both of us could… use the experience. To forget. To not sit here like it’s all okay, to not get so drunk that Hera kicks us both off the mission tomorrow.”

Zeb held his breath, not even realizing he’d gone from holding Kallus’s chin to cupping his jaw until Kallus leaned into the touch. “Yes,” Zeb breathed.

The words didn’t seem to register with Kallus, because he continued. “It won’t have to change anything. It’s just something for tonight. No one else has to know.” He froze, the skin edging his eyes crinkling in confusion. “Wait. You said yes?”

Zeb ran his thumb across Kallus’s lower lip lightly, short fur catching on Kallus’s chapped skin. “I did,” he said as he did so.

 _What am I doing?_ he wondered. _He’s asking for sex without getting emotions involved. I don’t know that I can do that._

_But I can’t turn down my only chance to be with him._

He pulled his hand away from Kallus’s face, realizing he felt the urge to act inappropriately, to go ahead and kiss Kallus when they hadn’t even started courting, much less reached the point of promising themselves to each other.

_And we’re not courting, either. That isn’t what he wants._

“Where?” Zeb asked.

“My bunk isn’t available,” Kallus said sheepishly.

“ _Ghost_ is full, too.”

“Karabast,” muttered Kallus. Zeb’s fur ruffled, both pleased and embarrassed every time Kallus used that word, so obviously picked up from him. “One of the buildings on the commando fields?”

“Is anyone going to be out there after dark?” Zeb asked, looking up into the night sky – an actual true night; Yavin was between the moon and the sun.

“No.” Kallus slammed back the last of his whiskey, prompting Zeb to finish as well.

The wookiee liquor hit hard, giving Zeb the resolve to grab Kallus’s hand and lead him out of the tapcafe – and to firmly ignore everyone who was watching them.

Kallus stumbled once or twice but managed to keep up with Zeb’s pace, around the back of the secondary temple and off into the dark jungle, a good fifteen minutes’ walk to the commando fields.

Just as Kallus had promised, there wasn’t anyone there. Zeb’s ears swiveled, listening for sounds of anyone who’d followed them, but the loudest sound he was picking up was Kallus’s breath, hard and hitching occasionally.

As much as Zeb wanted to slam Kallus up against a wall right then, there were questions that needed answering first. “How long since you last did this?” he asked, jerking his hand to guide Kallus around front of him.

“Not for a very very long time,” Kallus admitted. “And even longer since I slept with a– anyone who wasn’t human.”

“Right.” Zeb nodded. _I can’t top, then; I won’t last long enough for him to get ready for me._ “It’s been a bit for me, too. I’m clean, by the way.”

“I never doubted that,” Kallus said.

“You?”

“Also clean as of leaving the Empire. And nothing’s happened since then…” Kallus shrugged sheepishly.

“Hey.” Zeb picked up his other hand, squeezing both. “That’s nothing bad. Means you’ve got standards, right?”

“Something like that,” Kallus agreed.

“All right then,” Zeb said, taking steps to guide them closer to the nearest building. Once they were in its dark shadow, he leaned in and nibbled at the crook of Kallus’s neck. _This is a safe move. This isn’t significant. This doesn’t mean anything except lust._

“Garazeb!” Kallus gasped, bringing his hands up to wrap around Zeb’s neck. The human’s skin tasted like soap – just as Zeb expected – but also a little bit of warm saltiness, thanks to the alcoholic flush.

Hearing his name made Zeb want to abandon all pretenses of disinterest and to kiss Kallus on his cheek, to proclaim to him that he wanted more than just sex. But he’d agreed to this. They’d made terms and he couldn’t change them now just because of the slight whine in Kallus’s voice.

His jumpsuit dampened as his slit grew wet with slick and his cock peeked out. Zeb couldn’t help but groan with impatience as he pulled Kallus’s body against him, pressing their hips together.

The human was getting hard, too. Zeb tugged at his shirt underneath the coat and Kallus raised his arms a little without moving back any; Zeb felt the shirt slide between them as he pulled it as far as he could up to Kallus’s neck. He crouched, trailing teeth and tongue down Kallus’s chest and stomach, following lines of white lightning and lingering on the larger, dark red scars.

Kallus put his hands on Zeb’s shoulders, squeezing tight, and Zeb glanced up to see that his head was thrown back. Whether he was watching the sky or trying not to cry out, Zeb couldn’t tell. 

He _could_ tell Kallus was being very quiet, though. Hopefully it was just Kallus’s natural instinct and not a lack of enjoyment.

Zeb unbuckled Kallus’s belt, undid his pants, sliding them down. Kallus strained against thin cloth underwear, his outline clearly visible to Zeb even in the dark. With a grin, Zeb palmed him, making Kallus buck but he still made no noise.

 _Instinct, then_.

“You’re bigger than I remember seeing in the shower,” Zeb said, running a finger down Kallus’s covered length.

Kallus looked down, pupils blown so wide there was almost no brown visible. The dim light from Yavin’s other moons reflected in his hair, making it appear a much paler blond than the rosy shade it was in the sun. The smile on his face told Zeb he absolutely _was_ enjoying himself.

“You were looking?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked.

Zeb grinned. “Couldn’t help myself. You cover yerself up so much, I wanted a peek.”

Kallus laughed a little, breathily. “I cover myself for a purpose, Garazeb.”

Helping Kallus step out of one leg of his pants, Zeb ran a hand along the inside of Kallus’s thigh. “Why’s that?”

“The scars,” Kallus said. “Thrawn and Pryce–”

Zeb frowned. “Don’t talk about them. Scars are nothin’ to be ashamed of. I got a few, too. Means you survived what tried to kill ya.”

His jumpsuit was getting uncomfortable, so he stood and took off the top piece of his armor. Undoing the zipper, he slipped the shoulders off one by one.

Kallus watched him hungrily.

Zeb kicked the jumpsuit off to the side and Kallus stepped forward again, hand out to wind his fingers in Zeb’s fur, just as he’d done that time they shared a bunk. Deep in Zeb’s chest, the touch drew out a low rumble.

“Are you purring?” Kallus asked, mouth twitching in amusement.

Zeb was almost embarrassed, but he refused to be, not in front of Kallus. “Yeah. Happens when I’m really happy.”

Kallus nodded and ran his fingers through Zeb’s fur again, moving higher this time, grabbing him around the neck, pulling Zeb’s face down and–

Zeb jerked back. “No kissing,” he said. “Not now.” _He’ll get it. He’ll understand._

He didn’t. 

Kallus’s face fell. “Fair enough,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

The dismay on Kallus’s face almost made Zeb break, almost made him go ahead and kiss Kallus’s freckled cheeks and facial hair. Almost made him ask to start courting.

He hesitated too long, though.

“How’d you want to do this? I don’t have lube,” Kallus said, not quite meeting Zeb’s eyes.

Zeb glanced down; Kallus was still just as hard, so he seemed to still want to go through with sex. “I do,” Zeb said. Gently, he took Kallus’s hand and led it to his cock, not even caring that Kallus still wore his gloves.

The touch of Kallus’s fingers – so long and delicate and smooth compared to a lasat’s – sliding through the slick, around his cock, garnered another gasp from Zeb.

“Oh,” said Kallus, a bit of wonder entering his voice. “You do indeed.”

Kallus squeezed Zeb lightly, causing his nubs to stick out, rubbing against Kallus’s gloved palm as he stroked, gathering slick and making Zeb breath heavily, eager for the touch. He gripped Kallus’s shoulders, trying not to jerk into the man’s hand.

Zeb watched, wide-eyed, as Kallus pulled his hand away and _tasted_ some of the slick on his finger, the tip of his tongue darting out of his mouth.

Oh, that about did Zeb in.

But then Kallus reached out with his dry hand and turned Zeb around, pressing him up to the wall, his chest rubbing against the cool durasteel. “Are you ready, Garazeb?” Kallus murmured, slick fingers running down his back towards his ass while his other hand gripped Zeb’s cock firmly, keeping it off the side of the building.

When Kallus’s finger pressed against his entrance, Zeb yelped happily.

“Shhh!” hissed Kallus. “Don’t want anyone to hear us out here.”

“No,” Zeb agreed. “But you can’t touch me like this and expect me to be quiet.”

Kallus leaned his face into Zeb’s back. It was faint, but Zeb could feel him smile. “I _expect_ you to be able to control yourself.”

 _Then we shouldn’t be doing this._ Zeb did his best to suppress another happy noise when Kallus entered him, first with one finger, then two. He bit his lip, reducing the noises he made to muffled whimpers.

But then Kallus’s dick pressed up against him. “Are you ready, Garazeb?” Kallus repeated.

“Kal,” he answered this time, uncaring that his voice wavered.

Zeb’s past hadn’t lent itself to relationships, so he’d had a fair number of casual hookups over the years, from his time as an Honor Guardsman to being a Rebel. It’d been easier that way: burn off that energy without endangering anyone else with what the Spectres did with their lives. But Kallus had chosen the Rebel life, right along with Zeb.

He’d slept with a fair number of species, most quite bigger than humans in almost all dimensions. But feeling Kallus take him, it wasn’t his size that made Zeb’s chest clench so tightly he could hardly breathe.

Most of his interactions had been impersonal, based on physical attraction, convenience, and lust. But Kallus…

_No. I can’t think about that. This is no different from any time before. If I say anything, I’ll run him off._

Swiveling his ears back, Zeb listened to Kallus. The human was quiet as he moved, the only sounds the brush of cloth and flesh against fur and small gasps and grunts.

Karabast, Zeb wanted to see Kallus’s face.

Kallus squeezed Zeb’s cock again with both hands, bringing his attention firmly back to the physical. “Kal!” he cried again, too loud, too pleading.

The response was Kallus clapping a hand – full of slick, full of his own scent – over Zeb’s mouth. The human paused, quietly shushing Zeb again.

Zeb supposed Kallus was listening to make sure they weren’t heard and that he – with the superior sense of hearing – ought to help, but he was a bit too distracted by Kallus’s hand. The glove had to be practically ruined by now. Zeb didn’t care, though; the leather carried Kallus’s scent set deep in it, now coated with Zeb’s, and their mingled smell was completely intoxicating.

As if Zeb needed to be any more drunk on _anything_ right then.

Apparently satisfied that their tryst was still secret, Kallus moved again, pressing deep inside Zeb.

Zeb pushed back, only to find himself canting forward again seeking Kallus’s hand on his cock. Any way he moved, there was pleasure. Any way he moved, there was _Kallus_.

It was too much.

Zeb felt the warmth start in his back, down low where Kallus was reaching inside him, radiating forward until it reached his cock. He tried to warn Kallus, but could only mumble against the human’s hand.

He came, not as sharply as he had a few times in the past, but _hard_ , intensely, with tears in his eyes and Kallus’s hand stroking him as he spurted against the wall, as his body tightened around Kallus.

 _Kal,_ he called in his mind – thinking so loudly surely Kanan could hear him through the Force from across the base. _Oh kriff, Kal!_

Kallus’s movements started shuddering and small pants fell from his lips. 

Through his orgasmic haze, Zeb made the effort to turn his head enough to see Kallus. He wanted to watch him come, wanted to see his face, wanted to look in his eyes, but the angle was wrong. Zeb could only see his shoulder the way he stood – and he wasn’t about to change positions, not when Kallus was so close.

He turned his ears again instead, intent on listening to every breath of air that left Kallus’s mouth. The human’s breathing was rough, a small whine escaping every move he made. 

Kallus buried his face in Zeb’s back, mouthing something, but Zeb couldn’t be sure what, and pushed his dick in as far as it would go.

That was the only hint Zeb got; the next thing he knew, Kallus was coming inside him, the pulse of his orgasm making Zeb tremble in time.

Kallus’s hand fell from Zeb’s mouth, running down his arm until his fingers danced on the back of Zeb’s hand. For a moment, Zeb thought Kallus would lace their fingers together, but he pulled back instead.

“Kal,” Zeb whispered, unable to say anything else just yet.

“Garazeb,” Kallus answered, still speaking into Zeb’s fur. “Are you–?”

 _Am I what? In the stars? Yes. In lo_ – _?_ _No. Not that. I can’t be that._

“Good?” Zeb said. “Oh yes. I’m good.”

Kallus nodded, pressing his forehead into Zeb’s back. “I’m glad.” Slowly, he pulled out, still breathing heavily. “We should clean up and get out of here.”

 _You should come back to the **Ghost** with me._ “Right.”

Kallus pulled his pants back up and peeled his gloves off. Wiping his hands on his pants, he wrinkled his nose. “Suppose I’m doing laundry tomorrow.”

Zeb couldn’t help it; he laughed. Turning around, he also pulled up his jumpsuit and looked around for his armor. “If that’s your takeaway…”

Kallus flushed, barely perceptible in the night. “No. It’s not.”

 _Then what is?_ Zeb waited for Kallus to elaborate, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t quite meet Zeb’s eyes either.

_Karabast, is he ashamed now? Is he sorry we did this? It was his idea but should I have said no?_

“Kal, it’s okay.” Holding his hand out, Zeb hoped Kallus would at least touch him again.

He didn’t. 

“We should go.” Kallus leaned over and picked up Zeb’s armor. “Here.”

And then, as soon as Zeb took the shoulder piece, Kallus walked off.

Zeb knew he should be right behind him, should be following, but he was stunned. He hadn’t expected Kallus to try to kiss him again, but he’d hoped…

Well, he’d hoped for more of a response. A ‘good bye’ or ‘good night’, even.

Then again, Kallus had suggested this be done without emotions. Zeb was the only one wrestling with them. He _shouldn’t_ expect more from Kallus than what the man had promised.

Zeb waited in the dark, a chill in the air, until Kallus was out of sight. Perhaps Kallus just wanted them to space out their return to base so it wasn’t obvious what they’d done.

Heart heavy, Zeb walked back to the _Ghost_ , its sonic, and his empty bed.

The next morning, Kallus woke in his bed, alone, still smelling of Zeb and sex, skin aching for the touch of soft fur like he’d felt the night before. Even knowing he was alone, Kallus reached out across the bed, seeking out that fur, just in case.

Nothing.

Depressingly, it occurred to him that if he’d phrased things a little differently in the tapcafe – or even on the commando fields - he might not have woken up alone.

 _Karabast_.


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as he got out of bed, he froze, realizing his roommates knew.

They weren’t teasing him at all: they were smiling.

“Things go well last night?” Coryn asked, finally.

Kallus grunted noncommittally. He didn’t really want to answer that. He didn’t know _how_ to answer that. The sex had been good – he’d say it was some of the best he’d ever get to have, but he wasn’t nearly as experienced as Zeb claimed to be, especially in the last fifteen or so years. He hated to put a base value judgment on something like that, something that had felt so special.

But Zeb had rebuffed him when he tried for a kiss. 

If Zeb had really been into it, if Zeb had agreed for any reason other than merely wanting a distraction from the memories, he’d have let Kallus kiss him, wouldn’t he?

“You know you two can always use the room,” Zaarin said, exceptionally gently for the usually brash man. “Just put out the–”

“–the boot, I know,” Kallus sighed. “It won’t be necessary.”

“So nothing happened?” Coryn asked. “You and Zeb looked pretty eager when you left the tapcafe…”

Kallus leaned back against the bunk, eyes shut. Did he open up? Did he tell them? “No,” he said slowly. “We did. Just not here.”

He caught Otto’s eyes widening at the admission and the pilot jumped down off his bunk. “Hey, K, we’re really glad the two of you are–”

“We aren’t,” Kallus said, pulling away from Otto’s attempted shoulder pat. “That’s not– not what either of us want.”

_It’s not what he wants, so I can’t want it, either._

His roommates hushed again, blatantly sharing looks.

Kallus scowled and pushed off the bunk. “I’ve got a mission this morning,” he said, even though he knew he’d already told them. He simply needed the topic to change _right then_. “I’ll be gone for a couple of days if it all goes as planned.”

Zaarin grumbled a bit. “You’re lucky you’re in with a ship crew. Get to do smaller missions, not just plan commando raids.”

Smiling thinly, Kallus started digging through the few clean clothes he had in his trunk, pulling out an extra set to put on after the mission. Without his gloves, his eyes kept catching on the backs of his hands, on the torture scars there. 

He didn’t like to think he was the type to linger on past pains, but he absolutely hated seeing the lightning scars, almost as much as he hated seeing the scars from Gerrera’s mercenary. He hated them mostly because people treated him differently after seeing them, after knowing what he went through.

Strangely enough, the Spectres hadn’t treated him like he was delicate after picking him up over Atollon. Wounded, yes, but not weak. There was a _difference_ and they all knew it.

Kallus appreciated that.

He trudged to the shower, finding himself less enthused about the mission as he normally would have been, taking his time getting clean for the day. Washing off the smells of the day before.

Normally, a two day mission with the Spectres meant time with Zeb. It meant time talking to Kanan and watching the Jedi flirt with Hera. It meant gaining Sabine’s begrudging respect and trying to figure out if, at any given moment, Ezra was the wise leader or the bratty child – or both. It meant time away from being in charge himself, time where he could relax and do what he did best without having to be responsible for others.

The Mon Cala mission, though… well, things would be awkward, wouldn’t they? 

Kallus knew, deep inside, that walking off like he’d done had been wrong. That Zeb had wanted something else from him. But what? Zeb had made it obvious he didn’t want affection or anything but sex. Kallus didn’t know what else he had to give.

So he’d left. If Zeb had questioned him, he’d have said they needed to stagger their return to base, but Zeb hadn’t said anything.

Which, Kallus believed, meant Zeb had been fine with it.

He turned off the shower and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out the excess water until his hair was merely damp. He dried off with his scrounged, thin, Rebellion-issue towel, and dressed, picking up speed as he went. He might want to put off going to the _Ghost_ , but Hera had told him to be there by 0700 and Kallus was never late.

Not even if it meant spending time with a lasat who didn’t really want him.

Zeb heard Hera talking to Kallus before he saw the man himself. He leaned against the wall by Kanan’s room – really, Rex’s room and Kallus’s room on missions but no one ever referred to it as their room – and waited for Kallus to make his way into the depths of the ship.

He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say to Kallus. Confirmation that nothing had changed between them would be nice, but Zeb didn’t really believe that. _He’d_ been changed by it. Learning that Kallus hadn’t might be disappointing, but Zeb would rather see no change than a negative one.

Kallus followed Hera up the ladder, barely giving Zeb a look before joining the rest of the crew in the cockpit. Hera gestured for Zeb to join them, so he pushed off the wall and found a space in the back, by Chopper’s port.

As Hera guided the _Ghost_ off the moon and into hyperspace, Zeb noticed that Kallus was watching him. A long, lingering look, it seemed, but the second Zeb tried to return it, Kallus looked away.

In the copilot’s chair, Kanan huffed a laugh, just loud enough to be heard over Ezra’s chattering and Sabine and Rex’s sarcastic responses.

Hera stood, the white lines of hyperspace glowing behind her. “All right, everyone to the common area.” When the droid warbled angrily, she pointed out the cockpit doors and added, “Yes, Chop, you too.”

Zeb led the way, ensuring he got a seat by the dejarik table. Sabine, Ezra, Rex, and Kanan all slid in with him, leaving Hera and Kallus standing.

Flipping the switch to turn the dejarik table into a holoprojector, Hera pulled up the image of a planet. “So you know we’re delivering relief supplies to Mon Cala, but what you don’t know is that we have a secondary mission.” She pressed a button and the image changed to that of a man in Imperial uniform with a short-cropped beard. “This is Imperial Colonel Madine. He’s defecting and we’re pulling him out and bringing him with us.”

“Crix Madine, the commando leader?” Kallus asked, crossing his arms. “He’s one of the Empire’s best. _He’s_ defecting?”

“He’s defecting,” Hera confirmed. “That’s one reason I insisted on you joining us, Kallus: you’ve met before. You can tell us if it’s the real Madine or not and when he sees you, Madine will know we’re actual Rebels, not a trap for him.”

“Looks like you’re not the biggest, newest defector anymore,” said Ezra slyly.

Sabine elbowed him, eliciting a yelp.

Kallus waited for Ezra to calm back down before pointing out, “We _want_ that, Ezra. We _want_ high level defectors to keep weakening the Empire. Colonel Madine will have had access to information I didn’t. Between the two of us, we can cover a lot of ground when it comes to Imperial protocols and resource allocations.”

“But we’re really deliverin’ relief supplies, too?” Zeb asked.

“Yes,” Hera said. “To a mon calamari settlement in the southern hemisphere. The Imperials have cut off many of the planet’s imports, so we’re helping where we can. Madine has been embedded in the settlement for two days and is waiting for us there.”

Zeb relaxed a little; he was much more comfortable delivering food and medicine than he was running weaponry. 

“Kallus, you’re going to make contact with Madine. The rest of us will be distributing the supplies, but stay alert. It’s always possible the colonel was followed.”

Kallus nodded, but Rex frowned. “How do we know this is a genuine defection and Madine isn’t going to use the chance to catch _us_?”

Hera turned off the holoprojector. “Well, first, because Intelligence vetted him. Second, the last few times he’s faced Rebel troops in the field, he uncharacteristically lost.”

Zeb noticed the edges of Kallus’s mouth turn down. Was he thinking about his last commando mission? Zeb didn’t know if they’d faced Madine or not, but it would make sense for Kallus to wonder if that’s why he won.

Hera clapped her hands together. “In the meantime, we’ve got a _long_ hyperspace trip in front of us, since we’re travelling around the inner rim. Plan on getting sleep if you can and we’ll take our usual schedule of watching the cockpit.”

Everyone nodded and slowly scattered. Zeb tried to catch Kallus’s eye – _shouldn’t we talk?_ – but Kallus ducked out of the room almost as soon as Hera finished talking.

Well. So much for clearing things up.

Kallus rubbed the back of a hand, regretting not taking his gloves off _before_ kriffing Zeb the night before. He felt almost naked without them, but there was no way he could wear them before they were laundered again.

He’d managed to spend their twenty hour hyperspace trip avoiding Zeb for the most part. He’d gotten through it without blurting out anything embarrassing. Kanan had eyed him strangely, but other than that, none of the other Spectres seemed to know what was going on.

Shifting on his feet, Kallus stood in the hold of the _Ghost_ with the rest of the crew and the relief supplies. Like the other humans, he wore Alderaanian clothing – all the better to claim they were an official relief mission if caught – but underneath the folds and hems he was armed to the teeth.

Just in case.

“ _Okay, kids,_ ” Hera’s voice came over the intercom. “ _Touchdown in ten.”_

Kallus counted down in his head. Precisely eight seconds later, the _Ghost_ ’s repulsors kicked in, and two seconds after that, the ship lightly settled on the ground.

Or Kallus had thought it was ground.

Zeb opened the ramp, revealing that they were on what appeared to be a large flat dock, surrounded by peaceful ocean swells. “Welcome to Yos Town,” the lasat grumbled.

Kallus followed the group off the ship, ignoring the mon calamari greeting committee. The air was salty, humid, and warm and the sun beat down almost oppressively. He had the sinking feeling that before the mission was over, he’d be sunburned.

 _Better than cold_ , he thought. After Bahryn, he’d take _any_ heat to cold again.

“You guys hungry?” asked Zeb loudly. “Just show us where to go.”

The group moved across the floating city, making their way to the nearby marketplace. It was a good thing Kallus wasn’t prone to seasickness: the whole city bobbed up and down gently, the movement almost imperceptible. _Almost_.

Kallus kept his eyes peeled for anywhere Madine could be hiding. Would the mon calamari lead him to the colonel? Would Kallus need to suss out the hiding spot himself? He kept walking when the others stopped, going deeper into the center of the town.

He moved forward slowly, through the crowd of mon calamari, watching the buildings that lined the street – for a hit of Madine, for a person beckoning him, or for signs of a trap. He felt uneasy about the mission all of a sudden.

A child waved, both big orange eyes fixed on Kallus.

 _There_. Perhaps that was his signal. 

He followed the child through alleyways and sidestreets until they reached a small house, out of the way. On high alert, he entered the house alone.

At first glance, the house was unoccupied. Kallus stopped in the middle of a circular indentation in the floor, looking around.

“You shouldn’t stand on that door. It’s considered rude.”

Kallus spun, locating the voice – a red-headed human emerging from the shadows of the stairs. It took him a moment to recognize Crix Madine again; they’d met, yes, but it had been years ago during an ISB exercise.

“Colonel,” he said curtly, stepping out of the circle.

“I’m not a colonel anymore, I hope,” Madine said, echoing Kallus’s own feelings about being called ‘agent’. “That’s their access to the ocean; if you stand on it, you’re stopping the rightful owners of the house from entering or exiting the mother ocean.”

One corner of Kallus’s mouth twitched upward. “Gone native, have you?”

“No more than you have, according to Imperial scuttlebutt,” Madine said. “I hear it’s Captain Kallus now?”

“It is,” Kallus confirmed. “And as soon as you’re ready, we’ll get you out of here.”

Madine nodded. “I’ve got a bag. Escaped with some belongings and some datacards that I hope Rebel Intelligence will find interesting.”

“I’m sure they will.” Kallus felt a pang of guilt that he’d brought the Rebellion nothing but his person, but his memory was sharp enough that he still gifted them with a wealth of information. Datacards would be solid proof of Madine’s information, however.

Kallus’s comlink buzzed. “ _Kallus, get back to the ship_ ,” Hera said. “ _TIEs just entered the atmosphere_.”

“Karabast,” Kallus muttered. “Come on, Madine. Let’s get you off this planet.”

Madine scrambled up a few stairs and grabbed a large duffel, one of the shapeless black things the Empire issued its people, perfect for stuffing in footlockers and carrying belongings from post to post.

The timing of the TIEs’ arrival was suspicious, unless they did regular patrols of the planet. Their Intelligence information would have included that, however, so the fighters were an anomaly. _Someone in that crowd is a collaborator_ , Kallus thought. _They didn’t know where Madine was until just now or they would have found him sooner._

Confirming Madine was behind him, Kallus dashed back out into the alleyway, running at full tilt back to the marketplace. The pounding of footsteps behind him told him Madine was keeping up. It was a little hard to run on the floating streets, but they managed it, skirting the dispersing crowd.

Above them, the characteristic TIE scream sounded, a full squadron forming a screen the _Ghost_ would have to punch through.

“ _Kallus, where are you?_ ”

Kallus scowled; he needed to answer but answering would slow them down. He fumbled for his comlink, however. “Be prepared to lift off. We’ll be there in thirty seconds.”

A TIE swooped down toward the landing pad, shooting not at the _Ghost_ but at the walkway separating the pad from the marketplace.

_Kriff, they’re trying to cut us off. They probably have troopers behind us._

Madine skidded to a stop by the shredded walkway and the two watched as the landing pad drifted away.

The colonel set down his duffel. “Guess we swim,” he said.

Kallus looked up and saw Kanan and Ezra running to the edge of the landing pad. _Great, Jedi to the rescue_ , he thought. _Time to get tossed around some more._ “Hold on to your things, Madine, and get ready to jump.”

Bracing himself, Kallus still wasn’t quite prepared for the sensation of being jerked across the missing walkway segment. From the yelp next to him, Madine wasn’t, either.

_At least there’s nothing for them to slam me into this time._

Kallus stumbled when he landed, falling to one knee. Kanan’s hand appeared in front of him and he took it, letting the Jedi help him back up. The four men ran into the _Ghost_ ’s hold.

Zeb stood by the controls and closed the ramp behind them. Kanan called Hera in the cockpit and the ship’s repulsors started, a rapid vibration beneath their feet.

Kallus tried not to notice the look of relief on Zeb’s face, but he failed, feeling his chest clench. He gave the lasat a quick smile before turning his attention back to Madine. 

Ezra was already pointing him to the ladder out of the hold.

“There’s food and we’ll get you a place to sleep,” Kanan said. “It’s a long ride back to the base.”

“You forget we have to get past the TIEs,” Kallus pointed out. He looked at Zeb and Ezra. “Shouldn’t you two be manning the turrets?”

“Sabine’s in the _Phantom II_ ,” Zeb rumbled. “And Rex is in the dorsal turret.”

“I got the nose turret!” Ezra called, running up the ladder with youthful speed.

Kallus looked at Madine. “Now comes the hard part,” he said.

“What’s that?” Madine asked.

“Waiting to see if we get shot out of the sky.”

Zeb grumped and pointed them up the ladder. “You make it sound like you doubt Hera’ll get us out of this,” he said.

 _She’s good, but even good loses sometimes,_ Kallus didn’t dare say aloud. He let himself be herded into the cockpit and took a seat behind Hera, watching the battle unfold before them.

Madine stood behind the chair opposite Kallus, hands gripping the back of the seat tightly. Kallus felt his chair back move and he looked up and into Zeb’s eyes. 

While everyone’s focus was on the TIEs Hera was trying to evade, one of Zeb’s hands moved forward, gripping Kallus’s shoulder.

Fighting his instinct to grab Zeb’s hand, Kallus sat perfectly still, hoping no one else would notice.

The ship rocked, making Zeb grip Kallus’s shoulder almost painfully.

Chopper warbled.

“Blast, the sensor array?” Hera said, gritting her teeth. “Nobody shoots the sensor array off _my_ ship.”

From below them, Ezra crowed victory. “Got one!”

“Good job,” Hera said. “Now keep shooting. There are still eleven of them.”

“ _Nine!_ ” called Sabine over the comm.

“There’s still a capital ship up there,” Madine pointed out. “These aren’t hyperdrive-equipped TIEs.”

The ship continued to shake as it took hits on their way out of Mon Cala’s atmosphere, even as Ezra, Rex, and Sabine kept picking off TIEs. 

Just as they reached the outer atmosphere, an explosion sounded, the _Ghost_ listing to one side. 

Chopper screamed, his binary almost indecipherable.

“What was that?” Zeb asked.

“He said they took out one of the main engines,” Kallus said, more calmly than he felt.

“We can’t get all the way to base on one engine, can we?” asked Kanan, also preternaturally calm.

“No,” bit out Hera. “We’ll have to stop somewhere close and repair.”

“The Mon Cala shipyards–” started Madine.

“Will be watched,” Kallus said. “No, we have to go to another planet.”

Chopper warbled something else.

“Pammant,” said Zeb. “Is that too close?”

“We’ll have to risk it,” Hera said, looking at the engine diagnostics. “We’ve got one engine and no sensors. Can’t get much farther than Pammant with what we’ve got.”

Breaking into space, things seemed to calm, even as the last three TIEs followed them.

“Chop, get us coordinates for two quick jumps! We’re going to try to make it seem like we’re headed to Mintooine instead.” Hera patted the _Ghost_ ’s console. “She’ll hold together that long.”

_And if she doesn’t, we’ll be stranded, waiting for the Empire to come pick us off._

Chopper made a successful noise and Hera pulled the lever to launch them to hyperspace.

The lines didn’t form as quickly; they had only half their usual speed and power and were just barely going fast enough for hyperspace. 

But the lines formed and Mon Cala disappeared behind them.

Hera dropped them out of hyperspace ten seconds after they’d entered it. “Okay, Chop, _now_ we go to Pammant.”

Minutes later, Pammant dropped into view, the quarren-run shipyards filling the space around the planet.

Hera piloted through all the large shipyards, headed for the planetary surface. “They’ll expect us to go to one of the big ones,” she explained. “But there are smaller ones on the planet and the _Ghost_ is small enough to hide down there.”

It was sound logic, Kallus knew. It still didn’t ease his worry that the Imperials would follow them to Pammant anyhow. It was close enough to Mon Cala to be a feasible destination and the shipyards would make it suspect.

Hera circled to the morning side of the planet, finding them a dock with relative ease. The _Ghost_ set down, not quite as lightly as before.

She turned around in her seat; Zeb quickly withdrew his hand. If Hera saw, she said nothing about it. “Okay, Kallus, Zeb, you stay with the ship. You’re too recognizable and stick out in a crowd. The rest of you, with me. We’re going to go get the parts to repair the engine. Chop, you have those diagnostics?”

Chopper blatted and Hera stood, motioning for the others to file out in front of her.

“Wait,” said Madine. “Shouldn’t I stay here, too?”

“No, we’ve got things to discuss,” Hera said. “And I can keep you safer if you’re with me.”

Madine glanced at Kallus, who pointed to Hera. He might be of equal rank, but the mission was Hera’s, not his.

“Well, go!” Hera instructed and everyone but Kallus and Zeb made their way down the ladder out of the cockpit.

They listened until they couldn’t hear the group anymore.

“Wonder what Hera’s gonna discuss with Madine,” Zeb said idly.

“She’s not,” Kallus replied. “She wants him with her in case he’s a false defector who would signal our location to the Imperials. Do you even know how high the bounties are on all of us?”

Zeb _hmphed_. “I don’t keep up with that. And I thought Intelligence vetted him?”

“Intelligence vetted me, too, and still restrained me for the first few days,” Kallus pointed out.

“How long do you think they’ll be gone?” Zeb wondered, voice dropped a little lower.

A chill ran down Kallus’s back. Surely Zeb couldn’t intend… “At least an hour and that’s only if they find what they need easily.”

“Good.” Zeb grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the crew quarters. “Your cabin or mine?”

“Zeb?” He seemed to intend they have another tryst, but was the _Ghost_ the best place?

“Kal,” Zeb answered. “We were outnumbered there and still made it. Doesn’t that give you some sort of rush?”

“Well, yes,” Kallus admitted. He _did_ feel an adrenaline high of some sort, though with Zeb so close again, it was quickly becoming another sort of high.

“Then say somethin’ if you don’t want to do this. But if you’re willing–”

“I’m willing.” _Why did you say that? Are you really ready for **sober** sex with Zeb?_

Zeb pointed to his cabin. “Then let’s do this before we both crash.”

Kallus palmed the door controls right as Zeb reached down to palm his groin.

“That a blaster or are you happy to see me?” the lasat asked.

Kallus groaned. “Zeb, that joke was old when the Republic started.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.” Zeb pushed Kallus into the room, closing the door behind him.

“You’re something, all right.”

_You’re in my head, that’s what you are and I’ve got to get you out somehow._

Lasan. He was back on Lasan, the day it fell.

Zeb looked around him. The shouts and roars were muffled, or perhaps his brain was just shutting down. Guardsmen fought stormtroopers, Death Troopers, and other Imperials all across the field that used to be the palace gardens.

Where did he need to go? Who needed his help the most?

_Bomb. There’s a bomb._

He needed to stop the bomb.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zeb spotted an Imperial making a run for the palace. He tried to give chase, but couldn’t move fast enough no matter how much effort he exerted; it was like he was stuck in sludge.

He followed the Imperial anyway. Into the palace, into the throne room, above the safe rooms downstairs where all the royal family huddled with others who’d made their way to palace for safety.

He caught up to the Imperial, but it was too late. The bomb was set and Zeb had no knowledge of how to defuse one.

The Imperial laughed and the sound terrified Zeb.

“You’ve lost, lasat,” the human said, clipped, precise, Core-accented.

“Not yet,” Zeb growled. He knew what he would find, but he tore off the Imperial’s helmet anyway.

_Kallus._

Young Kallus, without the facial hair, but with that same stupid combed-back hairstyle he wore before defecting. Before becoming _his own_ _person_. 

_How much product did that take?_ Zeb shook his head. _It doesn’t matter because of the **bomb**. I have to get everyone out!_

Kallus, acting as if he didn’t recognize Zeb, pulled an unmodified bo-rifle off his back. It was still brown, wrapped in bloodied cloth, straight from the lasat who’d gifted it to Kallus. “You’re a guardsman. I’ve already killed one of you today.”

Zeb reached for his bo-rifle, time skipping and the weapon appearing in his hand. “He’ll be the last one you kill,” he growled. “You’ll see, someday, Kallus.”

Kallus bared his teeth, echoing Zeb’s own expression. “I’ll keep killing lasats until I die,” he threatened. “I’ve used the disruptors. I’ve battled with Guardsmen. You’re nothing special.”

_You’re nothing special. Not now, not in the future._

The taunt distracted Zeb just enough that he didn’t notice the timer on the bomb count down.

When the blast happened, the last thing he saw was Kallus’s helmet flying through the air.

Zeb sat up, gasping for air, hitting his head on Ezra’s bunk.

He scrabbled at the bed frame, pulling open the drawer under his pillow, the one Ezra knew not to touch under threat of a wookiee-style dismemberment, and pulled out a small leather satchel.

He opened it, shaking out a nearly miniscule pile of dust.

The smell of Lasan had long since dissipated from the bag of dust and dirt, but it was nearly all that Zeb had brought with him when he was taken from Lasan – a single handful of what used to be the palace itself. What used to be the people he’d sworn to give his life protecting. It wasn’t quite a source of comfort, wasn’t quite a memorial to death. Zeb wasn’t sure _what_ he needed the dust to be, but he knew he needed it then.

Zeb clenched his hand around the dust, fighting back the tears he so desperately wanted to let out.

Slowly, breathing in the air around the dust, imagining he smelled forest and flowers and perfumes once more, Zeb calmed and took stock of himself. 

He was sweaty from the nightmare. He was sore from where Kallus had bent him over the bunk earlier that day. His head hurt, pounding with every pulse of blood. Beyond that, he seemed to be physically okay.

Mentally, however…

Zeb carefully poured the dirt back in the satchel, rubbing the remnants into his palm. He didn’t put it away, however, and slowly made his way out of the dark cabin, heading for the galley.

It came as no surprise that Kanan was emerging from Hera’s cabin. He usually noticed Zeb’s nightmares through the Force and it’d been a long while since the last one.

“You okay?” Kanan asked quietly.

Zeb squeezed the bag to help settle himself. “Maybe,” he answered honestly. “I don’t really know.”

“Tea? Caf? Chocolate?” Kanan offered.

“Chocolate,” Zeb answered. He usually didn’t go for the drink, sweet as it was, but he had to admit it had calming properties that the sort of teas Kanan and Hera favored didn’t.

He followed Kanan into the galley, watching the blind man move around the room, aware of where everything belonged. Kanan heated some nerf milk, dug out the powdered chocolate – the best the crew could usually get; the solid stuff was rare outside of the Core and usually gobbled up by Hera or Sabine before the men got a chance to have any – and mixed up the drinks.

By the time Kanan handed him a hot mug, Zeb had let go of the bag, placing it on the dejarik table in front of him. 

“Another nightmare?” Kanan asked, even though he most certainly already knew. “Wanna talk?”

“It was one of the old ones,” Zeb said. “Lasan. Kal.”

Kanan leaned forward. “You haven’t had one of those since he defected.”

“No, I haven’t. I dunno why I’d have one now.” Zeb swirled the thick drink with a claw, licking it off his finger when he was done. “He’s on our side now. He’s my _friend_. He’s not that person anymore.”

“ _Is_ he your friend?”

Zeb glared at Kanan, knowing the Jedi would feel his sour mood through the Force. “We’re not havin’ that argument again. It was bad enough with Hera, but I thought you understood.”

Kanan nodded. “I understood then. I’m asking if he’s just your friend _now_.”

Zeb’s body tensed, making the soreness flare up again, reminding him just how _not_ his friend Kallus was. “Kanan, mate, I don’t know if I wanna talk about that.”

He’d practically jumped on Kallus earlier. Zeb blamed the adrenaline in his system, making him recognize the chance to try having sex with Kallus again – and perhaps, that time, he would get to see Kallus come.

He hadn’t. 

Kallus hadn’t tried for another kiss, but he _had_ carefully turned Zeb away from him.

In some ways, that was good. It was a little easier not to blurt out anything emotional when Zeb couldn’t see Kallus’s face. But he _wanted to see Kallus’s face_.

Zeb looked back at Kanan, who was waiting patiently. He sighed. “You already know, don’t you?”

“Some of it,” Kanan said. “You two had sex or something close to it last night and today, but neither of you are acting like you’ve admitted how you feel.”

Zeb huffed. “We haven’t.”

Kanan frowned. “So what–?”

“We’re friends. Who have sex _without_ feelings.”

“Zeb,” Kanan said, sounding supremely disappointed. “Is that what you want?”

Zeb stalled. He picked at a nicked claw. He sipped the hot chocolate. He studied the entryway, looking for shadows of anyone eavesdropping – even though he knew he’d have heard them leave their cabins long before they made it to the galley.

“No,” he said finally. “No. I want more. But Kallus doesn’t. This whole thing was his idea. He’s the one who insisted it would just be sex, not anythin’ more.”

Kanan picked up his mug lightly, using just the pads of his fingertips to hold the hot ceramic. “And you’re sure about that?”

Zeb glowered. “Mate, if you’re trying to convince me _Kal_ wants more, you’re going to have to try harder. He won’t even look at me when we’re doin’ it.”

Kanan made a face.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Zeb laughed coldly. “Not after all the times I’ve heard you and Hera–”

“Fine, fine,” Kanan said, cutting him off. 

“What Kal and I are doin’, that doesn’t matter,” Zeb lied. “And the nightmare was just a nightmare, that’s all. Bound to have it again sometime. At least it wasn’t as bad as the ones I used to get.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not still bad,” Kanan said, irritatingly prescient. 

Zeb huffed again, disturbing the surface of his drink. “I don’t know _what_ it means. Doesn’t really matter.”

“I can think of a couple things,” Kanan said. “Think maybe you’re conflicted about how you feel about Kallus right now? You still want to be friends, you like sleeping with him, but you resent that he won’t let you connect like you really want to?”

Grunting noncommittally, Zeb thought about it. Maybe he did resent Kallus, but did he resent him enough to want to change anything?

Not really. No. Letting go of Kallus, losing Kallus, would be too hard, at least for the time being.

“Or maybe you see all this as a betrayal? Kallus in your dreams betrays you by being the one to set the bomb, Kallus in real life is betraying you by keeping you at arm’s length?”

Sometimes having a Jedi best friend was annoying, Zeb reflected. “Maybe,” he said. He was tired of talking about it; all he really wanted to do was to finish his drink and get back to sleep. Maybe go check that Chopper was properly following the hyperspace path Hera had picked out. But mostly he wanted to get back to sleep.

“If I talk to Kallus–”

“Don’t you dare!” Zeb snapped. “Just… let things work out. You got me believin’ in the Ashla again, so let it run its course.”

“The Child and the Warrior,” Kanan murmured.

“He doesn’t know about that,” Zeb said quickly. “Can’t, not unless we tell ‘im about Lira San. But if the Ashla wants us to be connected in some way, then we will be. Lovers, friends, enemies again, I dunno, but _somehow_.”

Kanan nodded. “You’re right. Trust the Ashla if you can. But Zeb?” He paused. “You can’t rely on the Force to do things for you. You’ve still got to act. If you want more from Kallus, at some point you’ve got to tell him or you’ve got to break things off and move on.”

 _Move on._ Yeah, that’s what he’d been afraid of. “We’ll see, Kanan,” Zeb allowed. “Nothing’s changing tonight, though, so I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

He walked to the sink and set his empty mug in it, patting Kanan’s shoulder as he passed the human on his way back out the door. He thought of asking Kanan to keep their talk a secret from Hera, but, well, that was pointless. Hera knew _everything_ that went on in her ship, as well she should.

Ezra grumbled when Zeb slipped back into their cabin, but he didn’t seem to wake up fully.

Zeb put away the dust and flopped face-first on the bed, one arm dangling off the side. He buried his head in the pillow. _Tomorrow will be better,_ he thought. _Kal and I will work out exactly where we stand, sometime soon, and then I’ll know._

_One way or another._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me in being irrationally peeved that hot chocolate got to stay hot chocolate in the GFFA, but popcorn had to become bangcorn.
> 
>  _Bangcorn_.


	14. Chapter 14

To Kallus’s great shame, he never argued much against Zeb when the lasat suggested they sleep together again.

To Kallus’s even greater shame, he initiated things just as often as Zeb did.

It had become a regular part of their lives: a successful commando mission, find a hiding spot and kriff. Time alone on _Ghost_ missions, find somewhere on or off the ship and kriff. Hot and sweaty after commando training, _definitely_ kriff. Become desperate for the touch of another sentient being, pretend it’s all fine and kriff.

It was _too_ normal, Kallus knew. He’d gotten too used to the feel of fur against his skin, the nipping of fangs against his shoulders and his neck, his hair fluttering under hot breath.

Right that moment, for example, they were in a clearing between the main and secondary bases, far enough away not to be heard, kriffing yet again.

Kallus pressed his forehead against the ground, clenching the grass, and groaned as Zeb thrust his – quite sizable – cock between Kallus’s sticky, clenched thighs. Zeb had a hand underneath Kallus to protect him from the ground, but every time Zeb moved, he bumped against Kallus’s dick, adding further stimulation.

It was good. It was very good.

But it wasn’t good enough.

Every thrust Zeb made tugged at the skin around Kallus’s asshole, reminding him that they’d never kriffed that way. It was always too inconvenient; would take too much time to prep him to take Zeb. It was just easier to try almost every other thing. Kallus insisted, every time.

He insisted, but he wanted it, more than anything.

But he knew if he got it, he might not be able to hold his tongue.

Because, even as Zeb kriffed his thighs with such force that Kallus was sure they’d moved at least half a meter since they started, he’d come to a startling realization.

He _wanted_ Zeb, yes. He wanted to be _with_ Zeb, also yes.

He also was hopelessly in love with the man.

He couldn’t say that, of course, and he really ought to break things off because he was being disingenuous with Zeb, but–

But Kallus was starved for affection and hoarded every little scrap of Zeb he was allowed to have. It was just enough that sometimes, he could pretend that Zeb loved him back.

Zeb bit at Kallus’s shoulder, just a scrape of teeth through his shirt, and tugged at the fabric. Kallus was sure he could hear a rip, but he didn’t care because right at that moment, Zeb closed a large hand around his dick and gave it a few hard strokes.

Kallus came, shuddering as always, quiet as always, desperately clawing for something to hold onto, as always.

Above him, Zeb nuzzled his back, his thrusts becoming erratic, his breathing becoming heavier.

“Q– quiet!” Kallus barely managed to get it out before Zeb was coming, too, painting the ground beneath Kallus with come. A month before, when they’d started this… _thing_ , Kallus had been surprised at just how much there was – and just how much he wanted to find out what it would feel like inside him – but now it was expected.

Also expected were the effusive and lewd noises Zeb made as he came. Usually, Kallus tried to muffle the lasat, but there was no way Kallus could cover his mouth while being pressed into the ground.

 _Ashla, don’t let anyone hear us,_ Kallus prayed. He’d picked up the habit from Zeb – what _hadn’t_ he picked up from Zeb in the last seven months? – and had been surprised at how often he implored the Ashla for something.

Or some _one_.

Zeb collapsed on top of Kallus’s back, managing to hold himself just far enough off the ground not to suffocate Kallus.

Kallus laughed a little, still in a blissful daze. “Garazeb, you have a mission leaving in twenty minutes. Isn’t this cutting things a little close?”

Zeb huffed into Kallus’s back, the noise dancing down Kallus’s spine. “You didn’t seem so concerned about my schedule when I asked at breakfast.”

He really hadn’t been. “Get off me,” Kallus said after a minute, feigning impatience. “We both need to head back to base.”

“Walk back with me,” Zeb said, rolling onto his back.

Kallus got up on his knees, avoiding the mess in the grass and wiping at the slick between his legs. “Zeb, you know we shouldn’t. People will know.”

The lasat scoffed. “They already know, or at least the ones that matter. My family, your roommates, Jaci. Pretty sure your General Madine figured it out when we picked him up, too.”

“You told your family?” Kallus was suddenly concerned.

“Probably only as much as you told your roommates. But they figured it out.” Zeb reached out and rested his hand on Kallus’s knee. “Or at least Kanan and Sabine figured it out. Kanan tells Hera everything, Chopper’s a little bastard who hoards gossip for blackmail, and Ezra’s complaining about me coming in at odd hours.”

Kallus tried not to look at Zeb’s hand, tried to ignore the heat on his knee, tried not to notice that Zeb’s thumb was gently rubbing back and forth against his skin.

_Stop it, Alexsandr. Do not hope. Do not want more than this. Zeb isn’t going to give it to you; he knows how wrong it would be to be with you that way._

Pulling away, Kallus stood and cast about for his pants. He found Zeb’s green and yellow jumpsuit first, tossing it to the lasat. “I’ve got to be on the commando fields in half an hour. I’ve got to leave now if I’m going to walk to the temple then all the way out there.”

One shoulder against a nearby tree to steady himself – Kallus blamed Zeb for his lack of balance – he pulled on his pants, then dusted off his hands. At least he hadn’t messed up his gloves this time; he’d just have to go through the day with Zeb’s slick drying on his skin. Uncomfortable, but bearable.

Zeb grinned at him. “So we’ve _got_ to walk back together, then?”

Kallus groaned. “I suppose so.”

They set off through the green jungle foliage in silence. Every now and then, Zeb would sway just right and the backs of their hands would brush.

Kallus did not want to admit just how much he wanted to grab Zeb’s hand whenever that happened.

They stopped just out of sight from the main base. “See you in ten days,” Zeb said. “Sure you can’t postpone your mission a day so we get to see each other between ‘em?”

“I’m quite sure, Garazeb. If we wait, the garrison–” Kallus cut himself off. Zeb neither wanted nor needed to know about Kallus’s mission. He’d heard it all in the previous days, anyhow. He shook his head. “Take care. Come back safely.”

Zeb pressed his fist against Kallus’s shoulder, a pale, lingering imitation of a friendly punch. “You, too. Don’t want to hear that your commandos are in trouble when we get back.”

Kallus didn’t point out that his people were well-trained – Zeb knew that, too – and instead looked the lasat in the eye. “You won’t.”

“Right, then.” Zeb looked toward the temple, sounds of the base drifting through the jungle. “G’bye, Kal.” He turned and loped off, rounding the temple to come out closer to the landing field.

“Goodbye, Garazeb,” Kallus said softly, watching Zeb leave. “Please be waiting for me when I get back.”

_Maybe then I’ll have worked up the courage to say something._

The mission – implanting a new Rebel saboteur into the Kuat Drive Yards – had gone as smoothly as any such mission could. Zeb had spent four days working the line next to Ezra to make sure their spy was as safe as possible and he was _tired_.

He’d slept a lot on the hyperdrive trip back, though, and despite the weariness in his bones, he was awake and ready to go as they landed on Yavin IV a day early.

 _A day early_.

He just had the morning, but Kallus shouldn’t have left yet. He ought to be able to catch the man.

But for what? Another frantic session of sex? Breakfast, maybe, considering it was early dawn on the moon? A serious talk about what Kallus wanted from Zeb?

Zeb knew which one his family would suggest.

_I’ll just see what happens when I see Kal. He’s probably just waking up anyway._

Retracing familiar steps, Zeb stopped by the mess for a cup of caf fixed just the way Kallus liked it. Balancing the cup while munching on a waffle, he made his way up to Kallus’s room, knocking lightly with his foot.

Otto answered, still in sleep clothes. “Heya, Zeb,” he said. “Didn’t think you were back so soon.”

“We’re early,” Zeb said, swallowing quickly. “Kal awake?”

“Yeah!” Coryn’s voice preceded him by a few seconds; he appeared behind Otto, looking irritatingly perky for the hour. “But he’s in the showers.”

“The showers?” _Karabast._ “I guess I’ll wait for him in the mess.”

“No,” said Coryn. “Go meet him there. It’ll be a good surprise for him. He’s been antsy.”

“I’ll take that for you,” Otto said, plucking the caf from Zeb’s hand. “You won’t need it there.”

Zeb was silent for a moment, processing what the men were telling him.

“Well, _go_!” called Zaarin from further inside the room.

Otto gave Zeb a little shove down the hall toward the turbolift and shut the door in his face.

Zeb stood there for a second, debating if he really wanted to go to the showers. On the one hand, certain parts of his mind and body were already stirring, but he’d just about convinced himself to only talk to Kallus. To try and feel out where he stood, maybe. Even if Kallus’s roommates thought they should be having sex whenever possible, Zeb didn’t have to give into those base urges.

Of course that’s what he told himself right up until he walked into the shower room and realized that Kallus was the only one showering; everyone else was packing up their bags to leave.

Zeb waited for a minute for the room to clear, then jammed the door controls – he’d have to thank Chopper for the base’s override codes, damn the droid – before walking up to Kallus’s stall.

He knocked, quietly. “Kal?”

The water shut off. “Garazeb?” Kallus opened the stall door, a towel wrapped around the middle. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

“But here I am,” Zeb said, holding his hands out with a little flourish. “Otto and Coryn told me–”

“That I was here. Of course.” Kallus jerked his head, tossing wet hair out of his eyes. “If you will, give me a couple of minutes. I’m almost finished.”

“Actually,” Zeb put his hand on the stall door. “I was wondering if I could join you.”

Kallus’s eyes grew wide.

“Door’s locked,” Zeb added.

Kallus dared a glance at the door, but he backed up, leaving the door open. “It’s going to be obvious what we’re doing,” he warned. “People will want in the showers.”

“Then let’s hurry,” Zeb said, already stripping off his armor.

Kallus tossed off his towel and Zeb watched appreciatively as he bent slightly to turn the water back on. Once he was naked, Zeb stepped forward and grabbed Kallus by the waist, fingers brushing across wet, freckled skin.

The urge to turn Kallus around and kiss him on the cheek remained, but Zeb knew it would be pointless to try. Kallus never let them get face to face after that first time.

Except this time he did.

Wriggling around in Zeb’s grasp, Kallus stood less than half a meter away from Zeb, blocking most of the water with his back. Reaching out, he placed his hands on Zeb’s sides and rotated them both until Zeb was the one under the shower spray. “Back up,” he said.

Zeb took two steps backwards and found himself pressed against the wall. 

Kallus ran hands down Zeb’s front, down and down until he was on his knees on the hard stone floor. Deftly – he’d had some practice with it in the last month – Kallus teased at Zeb’s slit, fingers and tongue both.

Zeb gasped, biting back an ‘are you sure?’ Kallus was always sure. He wouldn’t have gone along with Zeb’s plan so easily if he had any real reservations.

Claws scrabbled at the cool durasteel wall, a shrill whine telling him he was leaving marks behind, as Zeb grew hard, his cock emerging from the slit – and right into Kallus’s mouth. Kallus couldn’t take all of Zeb, he was too big for even the most eager of human mouths, but stars, did the man try.

The shower washed away most of his slick as soon as the nubs on his cock produced it. Seemingly unbothered by the water pouring over his head, Kallus licked a stripe all the way from slit to head, prompting another shudder from Zeb.

Water tickled at his shoulder, jumping from spot to spot and running down his back. With a shiver, Zeb wrenched his gaze from Kallus to look up. The pipe running along the top of the wall, bringing water in from the outside, had a leak and it was that cold trickle which wet his shoulder.

Zeb needed that trickle. It gave him something to focus on while Kallus deftly licked and sucked and caressed, something to keep him from coming too quickly.

It didn’t help that he kept picturing that first time they were in the shower together, Kallus fierce and defiant, Zeb hurt and determined to find answers.

Karabast, that had been hot.

Zeb forced himself to stop clawing at the wall, choosing instead to run those same claws through Kallus’s wet hair as he tried again to take as much of Zeb as he could into his mouth. Zeb managed not to buck nor to try and hold Kallus’s head, instead letting the man set the pace.

And it was a brutal pace; Kallus had taken Zeb seriously when he said ‘let’s hurry’. 

Kallus circled some of Zeb’s nubs with his tongue, applying pressure, and Zeb accidentally yanked some of his hair, long enough now to tangle around Zeb’s fingers.

Smiling against Zeb’s cock, Kallus played at Zeb’s slit with long slender fingers, fingers that could reach inside him where no lasat could, fondling his balls with his other hand.

Zeb’s hands slammed back against the wall, supporting himself against all the stimulation. “Kal…” he moaned.

Kallus hummed, the vibrations sending another stab of pleasure up through Zeb’s spine. Completely unbidden, he purred, the sound echoing in the shower room.

The purr was a warning as much as a sign of his enjoyment; he wasn’t going to last much longer. Zeb would be embarrassed by such a short showing, but he’d demonstrated his usual stamina and prowess many other times already.

If Kallus ever asked, he’d blame the hot water and steam.

Kallus would never ask.

The human started stroking himself, hurriedly catching up to Zeb.

Zeb watched, entranced, almost completely distracted from his impending orgasm, as Kallus’s eyes drooped, almost hiding those beautiful golden irises – another word he’d had to ask Sabine for.

Kallus made whimpering noises around Zeb’s cock, almost sounding as if he were begging. The noises prompted a tense, escalating feeling in his hips, his orgasm building quickly.

‘I love you’ almost escaped his lips, but Zeb caught himself just in time. “Kal, stop,” he said instead.

Kallus listened, pulling off Zeb’s cock just as Zeb orgasmed, come painting Kallus’s chin and chest as the human slowly stood back up, more come than Kallus could manage without gagging, as they’d learned fairly early on.

Before the water could wash all of the sticky light blue spend away, Kallus licked some off his chin.

Wobbly on his feet, Zeb slid to the ground, back still against the wall. He tugged Kallus towards him and took over the job of blowing Kallus in turn. He had to angle his head up a little, but that was no hardship; it meant he got to watch as Kallus braced himself against the wall, as his face slackened when Zeb took all of him – balls and all – into his mouth.

It was Zeb’s turn to smile. He knew that trick always worked on Kallus, as did the vibrations from his purr. Kallus wouldn’t last long either.

Zeb was right. Kallus reached down with one hand, grabbing Zeb’s head, holding it still as Zeb’s tongue did the work of exploring the soft skin of Kallus’s dick.

Right about then, Zeb heard the pounding on the door: someone trying to get into the shower. He wondered if he and Kallus would recover, shower, and dress before a maintenance droid was fetched.

Probably not. People were used to the showers being used for hookups, but they had little patience if it messed up their own schedules.

Intending to hurry things along, he reached around, running the pad of his finger in a circled around Kallus’s asshole, applying a little pressure. He couldn’t fit his finger in, not without some preparation, but he could tease.

And teasing worked. Bucking his hips forward the slightest bit, Kallus threw his head back, gasping for air, and came in Zeb’s mouth.

Zeb hated that he looked away. It was rare that Kallus let him get a glimpse of his face when the moment came, so he treasured all the chances he got. Seeing that pouty mouth open, utter bliss on that face… well, it made Zeb’s heart flutter.

It was probably good that Kallus didn’t let Zeb see often or he might’ve confessed his feelings already. Confessed and completely lost Kallus as a sex partner, as a friend, as a fellow warrior on missions.

 _Missions_.

Reluctantly, Zeb swallowed and pushed Kallus away from him, back under the stream of water. “You need to clean up,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to mess up your mission.”

Zeb stood, watching the water wash away the last remnants of his come from Kallus’s skin. Kallus grabbed a bar of soap from a shelf on the stall wall and gave himself a quick scrub-down while Zeb squeezed around him and stood under the drying fan.

“Better go let them in,” Kallus said, lightly as if they’d just had a chat, not sex.

The flippant tone of Kallus’s voice hurt Zeb a little more and his purr died out. He wasn’t quite dry yet, but he could finish that in the sonic on the _Ghost_. “I’ll let ‘em in,” he said.

Zeb pulled on his jumpsuit, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kallus took his turn under the fan.

“Zeb,” Kallus said.

“Hm?” Zeb asked, not looking at him.

“I’m glad you got back to base early.”

Zeb looked that time. Kallus was giving him a small smile. Returning it, Zeb said, “Yeah. I am, too. Wanna go to breakfast?”

Kallus made a face. “I don’t have time or I would. They moved up our mission to this morning.”

“Right.” Zeb felt a pang of sadness. As much as he enjoyed getting to touch Kallus, to pleasure him, to be kriffed by him, he missed the times when they laughed together over a meal most every day.

Could they ever go back to that? Or would it always be just sex until he snapped and said something he shouldn’t?

Zeb grabbed his armor and unlocked the shower room door. A small, unhappy crowd stood there.

He glared down at them. From the back of the group, he heard Otto’s voice: “See, told you it wouldn’t be long.”

“Shut up,” complained another Rebel.

“You all shut up,” grumbled Zeb. “Have your showers, ya cretins.”

He pushed his way through the crowd and headed back to the _Ghost._ Back to his family, where things made more sense.

Away from Kallus.

The stolen _Lambda_ shuttle was flying smoothly in hyperspace, making the last jump on their trip from Yavin to Foerost. The commandos had been goofing off until that point, playing sabacc and other games, chatting and watching the latest HoloNet updates – with their stream location scrambled, of course.

Kallus knew it was time to rebrief them, however. His people knew their stuff, knew the mission by heart already, but he wanted to be sure.

Kallus stood in the doorway between the cockpit and the passenger area, one hand on the ceiling to steady himself in case the ship rocked. “Listen up!” he said, loud enough to be heard by everyone.

The ship was a little overloaded, with twenty-six beings including himself as passengers, plus the two pilots, but they would likely need the manpower of both Kallus’s squadrons.

Kallus caught the eye of his second-in-command, Towan, and nodded.

Towan took his cue and started outlining the mission yet again. “Okay, guys, we’re taking down the Foerost communications tower…”

Kallus didn’t listen to Towan; instead he watched the faces of his commandos. Was anyone unprepared? Was there anyone he’d need to specifically watch out for?

At that point, it didn’t seem so. He allowed himself to relax a little. 

Foerost was very near Coruscant, close enough that the Empire had practically turned it into Coruscant’s military outpost. There were prisons as well as communications and an ISB facility, one that Kallus had trained at as a young man.

Coruscant broadcast most of their messages to the Imperial Fleet through Foerost; the skies and space around Coruscant were filled with satellites and skyhooks that distorted transmissions. Foerost was ideal for the Empire’s purposes – and the Republic’s before them.

If they were very very lucky and very very fast, Kallus’s commandos would take out the main communications tower, disrupting Fleet movements until repairs could be made or a replacement brought in. It could buy the Rebels time to move freely around the galaxy without having to worry about Imperial ships calling in backup.

Kallus rested his hand on his blaster, wishing yet again that he had been able to bring his bo-rifle along. Knowing Thrawn, the bo-rifle hung in his office as ‘art’ after Kallus’s escape.

Someday, he swore to himself, he would get it back or destroy the _Chimaera_ trying.

Still, he was skilled with a blaster and the electrostaff ends of his bo-rifle wouldn’t have been practical on swampy Foerost. He might not have brought it even if he’d had the option.

“Captain Kallus?” 

Kallus looked over his shoulder to see the co-pilot turned his way. “Yes?”

“Ten minutes until we exit hyperspace.”

Nodding, Kallus thanked the co-pilot and passed the information on to the commandos. Everyone scattered, finding their stashed armor and weaponry and lacing boots tight around tucked-in pants legs.

Ten minutes later, exactly as promised, the drab green world of Foerost came into view as they dropped from hyperspace.

Almost immediately, the communications tower hailed them and Kallus could just make out two TIE-Defenders coming their direction.

He hoped his former colleagues in Intelligence had done their jobs and the landing codes were good.

It felt like the codes took an eternity to check out, but they were accepted. “ _Lamda 6904, please land on pad Aurek by the base of the tower.”_

Kallus let out a breath. That got them right up to the tower, close enough to make a surprise attack.

“All right,” he said. “Take control of the tower, plant those explosives, and then get out as quickly as you all can. If we do this right, we can be leaving for Yavin again in twenty minutes.”

The commandos nodded to themselves.

Well, most of them. Pao was checking his bandoleer of explosives and muttering under his breath.

“Corporal?” Kallus asked. “Is something wrong?”

Pao shook his head. “Just can’t load as many detonators as I’d like on this thing,” he complained, voice grumbly. “What do you expect me to do with only fifteen detonators? _Karabast!_ ”

Kallus froze. “Karabast?” he asked. “I didn’t know that was a drabatan term as well as a lasat one.”

“It’s not,” Pao said. “I thought it was a Coruscant thing, since you use it a lot.”

 _I use it a lot?_ Kallus frowned. “I… didn’t realize I did so.”

“Oh yeah,” piped in Rostok, his sniper. “All the time.”

 _More of Zeb rubbing off on me. I’ll be painting myself purple next._ “Right, then. Pao, fifteen explosives will have to serve you. You aren’t the only one carrying detonators.”

“Yeah, but I’m the only one placing them underwater.”

“It’ll _have to do_.” The shuttle shuddered at it entered the Foerost atmosphere and Kallus pressed his hand to the ceiling harder, successfully keeping himself from stumbling.

Pao nodded, leaning back against a transport seat. “Yes, sir.”

They lowered the ramp before the shuttle landed, swarming the tower – one squadron took out the guards and went to seize control of the tower itself, while the other squadron planted explosives around the base.

Kallus wasn’t the first one in the building, but he was close. He’d meant to be, but some of his commandos were faster than he was.

Keeping his blaster low, at waist-level, he aimed by feel and instinct, landing most of the blaster bolts on their targets. As the only one who’d been in the communications tower before, albeit years back, he took point and led the way through the maze of halls to the control room at the center.

Despite being caught off-guard, the Imperials still put up a fight; Kallus recognized techniques he’d been taught in the ISB, which meant the local ISB facility was training more than just agents these days.

To his dismay, while they took the control center, it was not before backups were called in – and not before five of the twelve men behind him were killed.

He’d never had casualty rates so high before and it made Kallus sick to his stomach.

Pretending he wasn’t affected, at least not yet, Kallus called forward two of his specialists, who started downloading Imperial codes and Fleet locations.

Five minutes later, they were headed back out of the building.

“ _Captain, we’re ready to blow!”_ commed Lieutenant Towan from outside. Kallus gave three clicks in confirmation before relaying that information to the pilots.

“Move to an outer landing pad,” he instructed. “I don’t want to get hit by debris as we launch!”

As his squadron burst through the doors to the outside, Kallus heard the shrill scream of the TIE-Defenders in the sky, headed their way – which probably also meant reinforcements were close, too.

Their shuttle hovered just off the ground, it’s laser cannons firing at the TIEs. Kallus stopped on the ramp, making sure everyone got on the shuttle before he climbed aboard.

The shuttle moved out over the swamp, gaining altitude, but before the ramp closed, before Kallus could grab on to anything or anyone, one of the TIEs landed a shot.

The shuttle rocked.

Kallus fell backwards, hitting his back on the edge of the ramp as he tumbled out of the ship.

The swamp below him was at least four meters away, though the water broke his fall when he landed.

He looked up just in time to see the ramp closing and the shuttle flying off.

“Karabast,” he muttered, finding his feet in the muck and looking for a hiding spot. A chill washed over him as surely as it had on Bahryn.

He’d been left behind. They wouldn’t dare risk a return to find just one man, even if he was the mission commander. They’d be stupid to even try and all his commandos knew it.

Kallus was a dead man and he knew it. The only variables were how long he could stay alive and how many Imperials he could take with him. He prayed to the Ashla that no one on the planet would recognize him; the bounty on his head was for him to be returned alive, meaning Thrawn probably had more torture planned for him.

He was alone, surrounded, back hurting, and about to die. He’d let at least five of his men die, too. Maybe he should have let Pryce send him out the airlock in the first place. Then he wouldn’t have gotten confused about–

Zeb. _Ashla, let him know my last thoughts will be of him. Blast, I should have told him I loved him._

Hiding in some plant grove with tall yellow stalks sticking out of the water, he checked his blaster.

Waterlogged. Of course.

Suddenly the explosives set off, making Kallus’s ears ring and bringing down the tower. The shock wave knocked him back a couple meters, bringing him into sight again.

A TIE fired on him and he waded through the swamp as quickly as he could, seeking shelter again. There was none to be found, at least not right away.

He dove into another grove and the TIE stopped firing.

Kallus knew better than to hope. He looked up to see six swamptroopers with their weapons aimed at his head.

He calculated that he could probably take out at least half of them, just like he’d done those stormtroopers on the _Chimaera_ , but he’d be dead after that.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

Kallus charged at them, but they hit him with a powerful stun bolt. He fell back into the murky water, unable to move, unable to float with all his gear dragging him down. He’d about made peace with drowning when one of the troopers grabbed his shirt and pulled him up.

“You’re lucky,” the trooper said. “The lieutenant wants to talk to all prisoners. _Especially_ Rebel officers.”

 _Wonderful,_ Kallus thought. _A pompous low-level officer who’ll take credit for my capture. At least they can’t be as insufferable as Thrawn._

The troopers dragged him – thankfully on his back so he didn’t come close to drowning again – in a wide circle around the collapsed tower toward an outbuilding. Troop quarters, if Kallus remembered correctly.

He always did.

Soaked, still mostly unable to move, he was dropped against the wall outside the building, on semi-dry land.

The troopers stood guard around him, waiting for their lieutenant. Kallus’s tongue stopped buzzing and he could speak again.

“You know you should just go ahead and shoot me,” he said. “I’ll escape. I’ll grab one of your TIEs or shuttles and get out of here. I’m a _good_ shuttle pilot; you won’t be able to catch me.”

“I think we’ve already caught you, Agent Kallus,” said a familiar voice Kallus never thought he’d hear again.

He looked up. “ _Karabast_.”

Lieutenant Yogar Lyste stopped just out of reach. “Karabast, indeed.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adding an "angst" tag for this chapter

“Lyste,” said Kallus, trying not to sound as surprised as he actually was. “I see Thrawn let you go.”

“Yes,” Lyste said, sounding almost nothing like the eager sycophant he had been. “He informed me that _you_ had been Fulcrum all along and asked if I would like a Core World posting as my reward for assisting him in his capture of you?”

 _Oh yes, he caught me. But he couldn’t keep me._ “A Core World posting? Oh, Lyste, you were probably expecting Ralltiir or Brentaal or even Coruscant, weren’t you? Somewhere cushy. Instead you get Foerost. Nothing and no one but military and ISB.”

Lyste crouched so he was eye level with Kallus. “And traitors, it seems.” He looked at the troopers. “Can someone tell me why this man isn’t in binders?”

The troopers jumped over themselves to bind Kallus’s wrists and ankles.

“Don’t be complacent,” Lyste warned. “He knows how to slip the binders, but they _will_ slow him down.”

Kallus rolled his eyes at all the effort Lyste was going to. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I did it? What could possibly have convinced _me_ that the Empire was wrong?”

“No.” Lyste shook his head. “I heard you use the Lasana term. Obviously the Rebels corrupted you somehow, but I don’t really care how.”

Kallus was a little impressed that Lyste had recognized the term ‘karabast’. He must have studied up on Kallus and his mandate to take out the Spectres.

“You’re not curious, then? Tell me, what do you plan to do with me? I’ve already been tortured and I didn’t give up any information. I won’t a second time, either.” Defiantly, Kallus met Lyste’s blue eyes and refused to look away.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Grand Admiral Thrawn has taken an interest in questioning you again. I even hear Lord Vader himself wants to get his hands on you.”

“Vader?” Kallus shook his head. “I only worked with him a few times.”

“Yes, but that seems to have been enough.”

Kallus steeled himself, determined not to let it show that the idea of being interrogated by a Sith Lord was intimidating, if not terrifying. “So Thrawn and Vader would both like to torture me. Can you take me to them so we can get this over with?”

One side of Lyste’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Oh, Kallus, are you really that eager to die?”

 _No, but I don’t have a choice. All I can do is die trying to keep the Rebellion’s secrets._ “The prospect of having to listen to Thrawn drone on again does make death seem preferable. I don’t suppose I can get you to execute me outright?”

Lyste stood back up and spoke softly into his comlink. “Thrawn and Lord Vader are being alerted to your capture as I speak.” He looked down on Kallus. “It will take a bit longer than usual thanks to your destruction of the communications tower, but they _will_ get the message.”

“So what are you going to do with me in the meantime, Lyste? Would you like me to tell your men what the Empire is really doing out there? Or maybe you’d like to talk about whatever it is that Thrawn did to you after I framed you?” Kallus blinked slowly, trying to keep his cool and be prepared for anything.

“Gag him,” Lyste said. “Stun him again if you have to, but I don’t want–”

Somewhere behind the building, planetary defense turbolasers fired.

Lyste spun on the troopers. “Go see what that is!”

The troopers hurried off, but around the booms of the turbolaser, Kallus heard laser blasts from a smaller ship – shuttle size, maybe.

_No. No, they can’t have come back. They’re supposed to be on their way back to Yavin._

The troopers ran back around the side of the building and reported exactly what Kallus had feared. “A _Lambda_ shuttle, sir, coming in too low for the turbolasers. Looks to be the same one the Rebels left in.”

“Disable it,” Lyste instructed. “We shall have a whole prison full of Rebels for the grand admiral to question.”

In that sentence, Kallus heard a little of the old Lyste. Instead of trying to impress _Kallus_ , Lyste had switched the focus of his attentions to Thrawn himself. Kallus almost snorted. Thrawn would use and dispose of Lyste, just as Kallus had, except his disposal would be much more final.

The shuttle zoomed overhead, ramp open and dropping commandos – Kallus watched as they started firing on the troopers, who took up a defensive position, leaving him alone with Lyste.

Lyste pulled out his blaster. “Don’t try to escape. I assure you it’s not set on stun this time.”

“You’ve got my hands and feet bound and troopers on the only exit,” Kallus pointed out. “Where am I going?”

“I don’t know how you escaped from the _Chimaera_ , but you won’t do the same here. I _will not_ be called to high command yet another time because of you!” Lyste’s fair cheeks were turning red with anger.

Lyste didn’t seem eager to pull the trigger, however, so Kallus pulled his feet to him and slid up the wall, leaning against it for balance.

“Stop!” Lyste said. “I mean it!”

“Yogar,” Kallus said, using his first name patronizingly, “no one who means it ever says ‘I mean it’.”

A detonator went off out front of the troopers. Kallus and Lyste stood there, watching each other, waiting to see what would happen.

 _Idiots. Leave me here before we lose more people,_ Kallus thought, listening to the fight. _If only I were Force-sensitive and could actually reach them._

The troopers scattered, collateral from a second detonator blast, and Rebel commandos stepped over concussion-stunned armored bodies.

“Stop there,” Lyste said, obviously trying to keep the histrionics from his voice. The hand holding the blaster wavered. “I’ll shoot him.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Kallus saw Rostok – his best sharpshooter – aim at Lyste. “Don’t kill him!” Kallus cried, unsure where the sudden concern came from. “We’ll take him prisoner!”

Rostok nodded the slightest bit and fired. The blaster exploded in Lyste’s hand. The lieutenant screamed and held his burned hand.

Kallus considered slipping his wrist binders, but decided he could wait for one of the commandos to free him.

Cacy, a sullustan, stepped forward and plucked a tool from Lyste’s belt, using it to release Kallus.

Rubbing his wrists, Kallus immediately fussed. “You should all be gone. You shouldn’t have come back for me. The danger is too great.”

Cacy shrugged. “Yeah, but you’re our _captain_ , sir.”

“That’s nice,” Lyste hissed, still cradling his injured hand. “They actually like you, Kallus. Do they know what you did to me?”

Rostok and another commando stepped forward and slipped Kallus’s binders on Lyste’s wrists. “You sure you want to take him?” Rostok asked.

“I’m sure,” Kallus said. “I’m sure.”

“Right then. Let’s get back to the shuttle and get out of here.”

Kallus helped guide Lyste, dodging laser blasts, and he made sure he was deep inside the shuttle before the doors closed and the ship took off.

It was a rocky ride out, as the pilots dodged turbolasers and raced to escape the TIEs pursuing them. Kallus stood in the doorway of the cockpit and watched as they jumped to hyperspace.

Turning around to face his people, he did a headcount. They’d lost seven. _Seven_.

“You’re idiots, all of you,” he said. “Next time something like that happens, you _leave me behind_.”

They all looked at each other and Pao spoke up, voice gruff. “We’re Rebels, sir. We do what we have to help each other.”

“You’re still kriffing idiots.” Kallus’s chest clenched and he almost ascribed it to being touched by Pao’s words, but then he had trouble breathing and his limbs felt weak. Slamming the cockpit door shut so the commandos couldn’t see, he slumped to the ground, knees pulled to his chest.

“You okay, sir?” asked the pilot.

Kallus waved him off. He _wasn’t_ okay, but he wasn’t going to ask for help, either.

_Thrawn almost had me again. Vader would have used to Force to torture me. I might not have been able to keep my wits and stay silent._

_I was going to die. Lyste has every right to kill me._

_They **came back** for me when they could have escaped. They could have followed orders and let me die. The Empire would have. The Empire **did** leave me to die. But the Rebels didn’t. They came back for me._

_They came back **for me**._

_Not because I’m an asset, but because they think I’m one of them._

He didn’t realize it, but tears streamed down his cheeks.

The pilots politely ignored him, staring out the front viewport at the swirling lights of hyperspace.

Kallus’s shuttle was late.

Zeb hung out in the mechanic’s pool, listening for the call that the mission crew was returning. Well, he was _in_ the mechanic’s pool, but the only one talking to him was Jaci.

She was chattering, answering Zeb’s questions about her relationship with Otto and Coryn, and very politely not pushing him hard on what was going on with Kallus. Jaci had figured out they were sleeping together – right away, actually – but only poked her nose in Zeb’s business occasionally.

The hangar intercom buzzed to life, announcing the arrival of a _Lambda_ -class shuttle in Yavin airspace.

Zeb stood quickly, Jaci only a second behind him. Together, they ran out to the landing field, skidding to a stop in front of the stolen shuttle.

At first, when the ramp lowered, Zeb didn’t see Kallus – all he saw were exhausted and worn commandos, fewer than had left, and one prisoner, vaguely familiar and glaring daggers at everyone. But then Kallus appeared at the back of the crowd, standing tall and straight, hands clasped behind him.

He walked down the ramp slowly, stopping in front of Zeb and Jaci without saying anything.

Jaci broke the silence. “Who’s the prisoner? Didn’t think it was that sort of mission.”

“It wasn’t,” Kallus confirmed. “But circumstances changed.”

There was the slightest hint of a waver in Kallus’s voice and stress smell was rolling off him. Zeb frowned. “You okay, Kal?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re lying,” muttered Jaci, arms crossed. The comment earned her a nasty glare. 

One of the Alliance Council pages ran up, interrupting. “Captain Kallus, General Madine wants you to go to the medbay before doing a debrief. I’m supposed to take you right away.”

“Medbay?” Zeb was shocked. “Kal, what happened?”

Kallus waved him off. “I’ll find you after, if you have the evening free.”

 _Ah, post-mission sex._ “I’ll meet you outside the _Ghost_ ,” Zeb said, testing how serious Kallus was being. Usually they met a little more clandestinely.

Kallus nodded. “That’s fine.”

Zeb frowned as the human walked off. He’d expected a fight of some sort or at least a relocation request. 

Something was definitely wrong.

“Huh,” said Jaci. “That was weird. D’you know the prisoner?”

“I think he was on Lothal,” Zeb said. “But I didn’t bother with him much there. Ezra would know better’n me.”

“So probably someone Kallus knew,” Jaci said, shrugging. “Wanna go wait out the debrief at the tapcafe with me?”

Zeb followed her off to the jungle, thinking about who the prisoner was and how he was connected to Kallus.

Two hours later, after Zeb sat in the tapcafe sober watching others get drunk, his comm clicked: the sign that Kallus was free and wanted to meet.

Jaci was distracted, talking to another group of friends, so Zeb slipped off, making his way to the _Ghost_.

Kallus beat him there. He stood behind the ship, by the edge of the jungle. He was hunched in on himself, one hand covering the scars on his bicep, probably unconsciously. 

“Kal,” Zeb said softly.

“Don’t,” Kallus said. “Don’t act like I need pity.”

“Karabast, Kal, I don’t even know what happened. Why don’t you tell me?”

Kallus shook his head, reaching out for Zeb’s hand instead. “Let’s go out in the jungle, all right?”

With the way Kallus’s eyes were darting around, it was obvious he wanted to get out of sight. Zeb obliged him, letting Kallus lead the way to a clearing they used regularly, a wide spot by a small stream.

Kallus stopped and immediately started tugging at Zeb’s armor.

“Hey, wait,” Zeb said, gently holding Kallus’s wrists. “You wanna tell me why you needed the medbay?”

As if he didn’t hear Zeb, Kallus tugged his hands free and pulled off the shoulder armor. “I don’t care how long it takes, I want you inside me tonight.”

“Whoa,” Zeb said, grabbing Kallus’s arms this time. “As wonderful as that sounds, I need you to talk to me first.”

Kallus struggled for a second, trying to break free of Zeb’s grasp, but he didn’t manage it. He glared at Zeb, who glared right back.

“What happened on the mission? Why did Madine want you to go to the medbay?”

Kallus slumped again and mumbled something.

Zeb could just barely make it out, but he wanted to be sure he heard correctly. “You what?”

“I got left!” Kallus said with more force. “I fell out of the ship and got left.”

“But you’re here,” Zeb said. “So they went back and got you. Good. I’d’ve had to bash some heads if they’d really left you.”

“I didn’t think they’d come back. I thought they’d leave me, just like Bahryn, except this time there were troopers, enough to kill me.” Kallus wouldn’t meet Zeb’s eyes. “They were going to take me to Thrawn and Vader for interrogation. I would’ve been forced to give up this base. I would’ve been broken and then I would’ve died.”

“You didn’t,” Zeb said, crouching the tiny bit it took to look Kallus in the face. “You’re here, Kal. You’re safe. Well, as safe as any of us are.”

“Stop,” Kallus said. “Just… just kriff me, will you? I need it.”

“You need it.” Zeb’s eyes narrowed as he thought. Kallus didn’t seem as genuinely eager as he usually did, just desperate. As much as Zeb liked the idea of finally getting to kriff Kallus, he didn’t want to do it under such circumstance. “I don’t think that’s what you need.”

“Oh?” Kallus flushed pink. “What do I need, then?”

In lieu of a spoken answer, Zeb pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around the human, letting one hand hold the back of Kallus’s head.

Kallus was still for a minute, but he didn’t struggle and Zeb didn’t let go. Then, slowly, Kallus snaked his arms around Zeb, clinging to his jumpsuit. Wetness soaked the fur of his neck and Zeb realized Kallus was crying.

Zeb held him tighter.

“Look,” said Zeb. “Let’s put off the sex. Come back to the _Ghost_ with me. Whatever you need to hear, I’ll try to figure it out. But I’m not letting you go, you got that?”

Kallus didn’t answer.

The last time Zeb had seen Kallus in such a state was when he’d apologized for Lasan. He hadn’t realized just how deeply Kallus had been affected by what happened on Bahryn. He’d thought Kallus knew by now that Rebels didn’t leave their own behind.

Kallus mumbled something into Zeb’s fur.

“Hey, what was that?”

Pulling back a little, Kallus looked up at Zeb with red eyes. “They came back. They shouldn’t have, but they did. I don’t know why they thought I was worth coming back for.”

“Hey!” Zeb repeated, putting a little force into it. “Don’t say stuff like that. They went back for you because you’re one of them – one of us. Just like you came looking for me. None of that ‘I’m not worth it’ stuff, because you are.”

Kallus bit his lip and Zeb knew, just _knew_ that he wanted to argue.

“Kal, you’re my friend. That makes you worth it.”

“I shouldn’t be your friend,” Kallus said softly. “You shouldn’t let me around you.”

Zeb frowned. “We’ve been through this. I’ve forgiven you. And if you need another reason for me to want you around, you don’t treat me like I’m just a bruiser. You saw past that and you treat me like a person. Sometimes even my family forgets that.”

Kallus pulled back, wiping at his eyes with the back of a glove. “I apologize,” he said. “I’ll go and leave you alone tonight.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Zeb asked, a little exasperated. Rashly, he stepped forward and took Kallus’s face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Bending down, he pressed his face into Kallus’s hair.

The smell of the man was comforting. It turned him on a little, but Kallus didn’t really need that, even though he’d asked.

“What are you doing, Garazeb?” Kallus whispered.

“This is supposed to be comforting,” Zeb muttered. “‘Cause that’s what it seems like you really need, not sex. Now, come back to the _Ghost_ with me before I pick you up and carry you there.”

Kallus hiccupped a short laugh. Zeb took that as assent.

Holding onto Kallus’s hand, Zeb picked up his armor and led the way through the jungle and into the _Ghost_. As before, his family spotted him, curious looks on most of their faces.

Ezra’s was not curious. “Hey! You can’t do that! I have to sleep in there!”

Sabine elbowed Ezra. “Shut up. Zeb wouldn’t do that. Not while we’re all here.”

“Ignore them,” Zeb said, letting them into his cabin. He set down his armor and undid his jumpsuit, rolling it down to his waist. Next came his vambraces and leg plates.

Kallus stood there and watched, as if he’d never seen Zeb strip down before.

“You can get undressed, too,” Zeb prompted. _I’d rather like you to lose that commando outfit._

Shaken from his reverie, Kallus shed the brown jumpsuit, revealing his underclothes: a short-sleeved shirt and some tight shorts. Zeb didn’t get the human obsession with wearing an extra layer of clothing, but he’d learned to appreciate it nonetheless.

Holding his clothes, Kallus spoke quietly. “Garazeb, are you sure you want me here?”

Zeb plucked the clothes from Kallus’s hands and caught his eyes. “Kal, I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t. I don’t want you to be alone tonight. Sounds like you felt alone enough already today.”

Kallus nodded shortly and crawled into Zeb’s bunk. He automatically lay with his back against the wall.

Zeb pulled out a thin blanket – Kallus would need it more than he would – and a pillow they could probably share. He tossed both to Kallus then slid into the bunk after him.

They lay there face to face, and yet again, Zeb felt that twisting in his guts that made him want to initiate some sort of romantic relationship. But yet again, it was the wrong time. 

Instead, he reached out with one hand and stroked Kallus’s cheeks, fur catching on Kallus’s facial hair, marveling at the feeling, wishing he had more excuses to touch Kallus that way.

Kallus closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

“You’re safe,” Zeb repeated. “Your men got you. They wouldn’t leave you behind. I wouldn’t leave you behind. Karabast, I’d lead the rescue party if I had to.”

Without opening his eyes, Kallus nodded. “I believe that. I don’t know why, but I believe that.”

“Lasat don’t lie,” Zeb said, cracking a smile.

 _That_ made Kallus look at Zeb again, eyebrows raised. “How long did it take you to tell your family about Bahryn?”

Zeb chuckled. “Okay, so we lie a little. But I don’t lie to you.” _I just don’t tell you things you’re better off not knowing, such as how much I love you._

Kallus turned his head slowly, until Zeb’s hand covered his whole face. Softly, almost imperceptibly, he kissed Zeb’s palm.

For the first time since they started their thing, whatever it was, Zeb felt utter terror.

That kiss was too gentle. Kallus couldn’t mean it the way it’d come across.

But Zeb wanted him to mean it. Wanted it terribly.

They were dancing dangerously close to the precipice of something real. If Zeb didn’t guard himself well for the night, he might say too much, he might want too much, he might break through the carefully constructed veneer of casual lust.

Suddenly, looking at Kallus’s face was too much. Seeing those golden eyes watch him questioningly was too much.

So Zeb ran his hand down to Kallus’s back and pulled him close, too close to see his face.

Kallus wormed his arm under Zeb’s, lightly holding on to the fur of his back. His breathing grew ragged again and Zeb rubbed his back.

Every now and then, Kallus shook with sobs – of relief, of fear, Zeb wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter. He just held Kallus and never let go of the man.

Eventually, the sobs died out, Kallus’s breathing evened out and slowed down, and Zeb felt sure he was asleep. He took the chance to press a soft kiss to the top of Kallus’s head. He stayed that way, lying awake and watching over Kallus for Ashla knew how long.

At some point, Ezra entered the room. “You guys didn’t have sex, did you?”

Zeb glared over his shoulder. “No. But even if we did, it’s none of your business.”

“Hey, I’m of age,” Ezra pointed out. “Don’t have to treat me like a kid anymore.”

“Being eighteen doesn’t make it your business what I do in my own bed. Remember, this was my room before you came along.”

“Fine,” Ezra huffed, pulling himself up and into his bunk. “But no weird noises while I’m sleeping.”

Zeb grunted, turning back to Kallus, who didn’t appear to have stirred.

The man’s breath tickled Zeb’s chest, the pull of his fingers in Zeb’s fur hurt just the slightest amount, and Zeb hadn’t left himself much room on the bed.

He wouldn’t change a thing.

…except he would. He’d make this real if he could. He’d fall asleep every night with Kallus in his arms if he could. He’d kiss the man properly, tell him what it meant, ask to stay with him throughout the war, if not for the rest of their lives.

He was so close to having it all that he could taste it.

And yet, he couldn’t have it all.

One thing Zeb knew: after this, he might not be able to go back to having casual sex with Kallus.

Zeb was gone when Kallus woke. In fact, the whole _Ghost_ was silent except for Chopper, who tootled a greeting at him.

Kallus really didn’t know why Zeb hated that droid so much.

Zipping up his commando jumpsuit, he headed back to his bunk. Madine had given his men the day off and that included Kallus. He considered trekking out to the far temple site, or hiking along the stream. 

He also considered crawling into his own bunk and sleeping some more.

Everyone was gone when he arrived at his bunkroom. Kallus felt a small pain. For all that his roommates irritated him, he’d gotten used to their teasing and their encouragement about Zeb. He’d gotten to where he didn’t really mind being called ‘K’ – and wouldn’t that have horrified the ISB agent he used to be?

Kallus shed his mission clothes for proper sleep clothes and climbed up into his bunk. He pulled his datapad out from under his pillow and tapped three passwords to get through his security. Scrolling through, he saw he had some messages from Madine and some of his commandos, inevitably queries about the mission or what time they were to meet the next day.

Answering messages took up the better part of an hour, as Kallus carefully chose his words for even the simplest of replies. Setting the datapad face down on his chest, Kallus stared at the ceiling.

It had been different that time, spending the night with Zeb. He hadn’t woken up in Zeb’s arms, but he had fallen asleep there. Zeb had been so gentle with him that it was almost tender.

So gentle that it almost hurt.

Kallus shut his eyes, remembering further back, to Axxila. To a drugged Zeb that enthusiastically kissed his cheeks, who said ‘try me’. The groping matched with the lust they shared now, but the kisses, the challenge? That was something different, something that felt a lot like the night they’d just shared.

Picking up the datapad again, Kallus carefully connected to the wider HoloNet, being sure to activate all the security measures that would keep the Empire from isolating his frequency.

There wasn’t much information about lasat out there anymore, not after the destruction of Lasan. The Empire had destroyed more than just the physical home of the lasat species, they’d destroyed their memory.

But nothing was ever truly gone off the HoloNet. If one knew where to look – in cached sites and databases he’d accessed when he first researched the Spectres – the information he wanted was out there.

An xenologist’s guide to lasat culture from the high days of the Old Republic.

Kallus scrolled until he found the subsection he needed. _Mating Customs of Lasan_.

He paused for a moment, debating if he really wanted to read the site.

On the one hand, he did, desperately. He wanted to know all the cues he’d been missing from Zeb, if there were any to begin with.

On the other, it almost felt like an invasion of Zeb’s privacy to learn about his culture and homeworld from a HoloNet site instead of just asking the man himself.

Kallus took a deep breath and skimmed the page, little bits of information standing out.

… _to declare desire or intent to court, a lasat will kiss their intended on the cheeks – and cheeks alone…_

_…scenting is a bonding activity between courting couples…_

_…a kiss on the mouth stands in as a marriage proposal, much as some other cultures use rings or carved tokens…_

_…once a marriage is consummated, a couple may choose to memorialize the event by marking, a scar built up over several days of biting and drawing blood, usually as part of intercourse…_

“Karabast!” Kallus sat up quickly, banging his head on the ceiling yet again. His mind screamed at him, pointing out three very important conclusions.

_Zeb had been trying to court him on Axxila._

_Based on his behavior the night before, he probably still felt the same way._

_He hadn’t stopped Kallus from kissing him because there was anything wrong with Kallus._

Except for an appalling lack of research, it seemed.

Kallus checked his chrono. It was almost lunch. 

If Zeb hadn’t been on the _Ghost_ , he’d be with the mechanics.

Zeb probably wouldn’t forgive him if he marched up and kissed Zeb on the cheek in front of his coworkers.

No, that needed to be somewhere more private. But where? When? How could Kallus wait now that he knew?

Maybe Zeb would meet him outside the temple for lunch.

Kallus fumbled for his comlink, setting it for Zeb’s frequency.

“ _Kal?”_ Zeb’s voice sounded muffled and slurred, like he was holding a tool in his mouth. “ _You okay?_ ”

“Yes, I am, actually,” Kallus said, reigning in his excitement. “But I need to talk to you. Can you meet for lunch? At our spot out back?”

There was a pause. “ _Yeah. I gotta talk to you, too. I’ll meet you there when we break.”_

Kallus clasped the comlink to his chest after Zeb disconnected.

He was going to initiate courting, the lasat way. Hopefully Zeb would be charmed and not offended.

He still had an hour, so Kallus took his time showering, trying to quell the pounding of his heart, the tightening of his chest.

Oh, if Zeb would only let him, he’d kiss him like a human would. That would be too forward just yet, however.

Kallus practically vibrated with excitement, pacing his bunkroom until it was time to go. He dashed through the mess hall line, grabbing a pre-made bag rather than picking out a plate, and went out to the back of the temple.

Zeb was already there.

Kallus smiled and walked quicker, but then he noticed the look on Zeb’s face.

He wasn’t happy.

Kallus slowed his approach. “Garazeb, are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zeb muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Kallus set down his bag, realizing that Zeb hadn’t brought food.

Suddenly Zeb’s request to talk seemed ominous.

“What is it?” Kallus asked.

Zeb wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Look, uh, Kal. This ain’t anythin’ about you. You’ve done nothin’ wrong. But I can’t keep doin’ this.”

“Doing what?” Kallus asked slowly.

Zeb waved a hand, indicating the two of them. “This. Us. The sex. I– I can’t. Not anymore.”

Every excited fiber in Kallus’s body was now tense and afraid. “You can’t do sex anymore?” Kallus said. “That’s fine. We can always stop–”

“Not really,” Zeb said. “You say that, but we’ll always be tempted to fall back in bed, right? And I can’t risk that.”

Kallus’s eyes narrowed. “What can’t you risk, Garazeb?”

Zeb turned away. “Gettin’ attached.”

Kallus laughed, disbelieving. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” Zeb agreed. “And that’s why all this has to stop. No more sex. No more sharin’ bunks. No more meals together. Maybe even no more missions.”

Heart plummeting, Kallus blinked slowly, taking in what Zeb had just said.

Had they been a real couple, Kallus would say he’d just been dumped. But they hadn’t been real, had they?

“Zeb…” said Kallus, slipping back to using Zeb’s nickname for the first time in months.

“I’m goin’,” Zeb said without looking back. “Take care, Kal.”

Kallus let him get a few meters away before calling out to him, “Wait! You can’t do this unilaterally! _Talk_ to me, please, Garazeb!”

Zeb didn’t stop.

Kallus couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see for the tears in his eyes. Couldn’t hold down the contents of his stomach – the scarce meal he’d eaten on the way back from Foerost.

He leaned against the temple wall, fingers gripping the curves and pits of the stone to keep him upright.

Zeb was gone from his life. Just like that.

Just as he’d been ready to tell him he wanted more.

Zeb was gone.

Zeb was _gone_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [THIS CHAPTER HAS GORGEOUS ART](https://twitter.com/birdlets_/status/1317132252887670784)! Thank you to the amazing birdlets_/vintaged!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of blood in the first two sections
> 
> You know what they say, kids: “fine” stands for “fucked-up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.”

Zeb had left him behind.

He’d promised – _promised_ – the night before that he never would, but that’s exactly what he’d done, wasn’t it?

Pushing off from the temple wall, Kallus stumbled out into the jungle, not really paying much attention to the direction he was going; he had no specific goal in mind other than to get away from people. A troop of woolamanders whooped at him irritably as they fled through the treetops, disturbed by his presence, and he came to a stop by one of the massive Massassi trees they’d abandoned.

He leaned against it, both hands pressed to the rough bark, and fought the urge to sit. If he sat, if he knelt, if he crouched, if he allowed himself to give into the hurt in any way, form, or fashion, he wouldn’t be able to get back up.

Maybe ever.

Kallus gulped for air, the jungle humidity heavy in his lungs. He needed some way to transfer this pain inside him into something physical. Physical pain he could deal with. Physical pain he could work through.

Standing up straight, he ripped off his gloves and tossed them aside before relentlessly pummeling the tree. The bark bit and ripped at his knuckles and the solidity of the trunk sent shocks up his arms all the way to his elbows. Blood dripped down his fists and stained the bark where he hit it.

Time must have passed, though it all felt like one eternal second. When his knuckles were too exposed, Kallus took to hitting the tree open-handed, kneeing it, kicking. He laid into the tree as if it were, well–

As if it were himself.

Just as he was about to start using elbows because he’d shredded his palms, someone found him.

“Kallus?”

Coming to a complete halt, Kallus opened and closed his fists, feeling the sting of the dirt and grit ground into his busted knuckles and torn palms. “Go away, Zaarin.”

Footsteps came closer. “I don’t think I’m going to do that, K. What’s wrong?”

Without looking at Zaarin, Kallus snatched his gloves from the ground, pulling them on over his self-inflicted injuries. He couldn’t hide the rips in his pants, but he could hide his hands. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

“No, you’re not.” Zaarin circled around, but Kallus wouldn’t look him in the face. “Look, do I, uh, do I need to go get Captain Orrelios?”

“No!” Kallus said, the snarl ripping out of him with more vehemence than he intended.

Zaarin rocked back in shock, then shook his head slightly. “ _Sithspit_ ,” he said. “Something happened with him, didn’t it?”

Kallus didn’t reply.

Glancing down, Zaarin swore again. “K, let’s get you to the medbay.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Kallus repeated, noticing the blood seeping out from under his traitorous gloves.

Zaarin frowned. “Tell me what happened or I’m dragging you to the medbay now,” he threatened.

Kallus glared at his roommate. “You wouldn’t. You _couldn’t_.”

“Just ‘cause I’m not as tall as you doesn’t mean I can’t take you down, K, especially when you’re already compromised.” Zaarin approached slowly. “Let’s start simple. What happened to your hands?”

Realizing Zaarin already knew the answer to that question and that there was no point trying to lie, Kallus gestured to the tree.

“Good,” Zaarin nodded. “Now, if you’ll come with me to the medbay, I won’t ask anything else until after you’re taken care of, okay?”

That was probably the best offer Kallus was going to get. Zaarin was persistent.

_He’ll be happy to hear what happened. Zeb’s available for him to flirt with again._

“Fair enough,” Kallus said, ashamed at the way his voice wavered.

“C’mon, K.” Zaarin put a hand on Kallus’s shoulder, making him tense, and guided him back to the temple that way.

Kallus kept his eyes down for fear of seeing anyone else he knew – or, horror of horrors, seeing Zeb.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he saw Zeb and that uncertainty scared him.

The initial shock was leaving Kallus’s system and a feeling of utter disbelief radiated through him.

He’d heard wrong. He must have. Zeb wouldn’t have dropped him so easily and so quickly, not without letting Kallus have his say. Zeb simply needed time to cool off, to get his wits about him again.

Kallus barely noticed the medics peeling his gloves off, cleaning the cuts, and applying the bacta and bandage wraps. Looking around the medbay, he couldn’t stop watching the doors, just in case Zeb came in to clear things up.

Over in the far corner, but still watching, Zaarin talked on his comlink. After a few minutes he returned to Kallus’s side, standing facing him with his arms crossed like a guard.

“I’m taking the afternoon off. So are Otto and Coryn,” he said. “We’re meeting in the room after this.”

“Oh, no,” said Kallus, slowly and meticulously. “That’s not necessary. I need to go find Garazeb and talk–”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Zaarin said. “I don’t know what he did, but it looks like you both need time to cool off.”

Kallus shot him a half-hearted glare, watching the doors again immediately after. “I’ve cooled off.”

Zaarin shook his head. “Not until that bacta’s worked on your hands, you haven’t.”

 _Garazeb’s not coming to find you,_ whispered a small voice in the back of Kallus’s mind. _Didn’t you hear him? He doesn’t want you_.

Kallus’s face screwed up in pain involuntarily. He couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted, just like he couldn’t stop that voice. Until the medic snapped at him for moving, he hadn’t realized he’d squeezed his fists tight again either.

Zaarin reached out and placed a hand on Kallus’s shoulder again, gripping it solidly.

“It’s going to be easier to keep the bandages on your palms if you wear gloves,” the medic said. “Do you have a pair?”

Kallus gestured to his leather half-gloves and the medic made a face.

“Something _clean_ ,” she said. “Hold on, I’ll get you something that’ll work.”

When she returned, she brought a pair of white gloves made from a soft white fabric. Not synthetic, but actual fibers. Those were hard to source, Kallus knew. She slid them on his hands, one at a time.

It felt like putting his ISB gloves back on. It felt like backsliding, like losing a part of himself he’d worked hard to find.

Then again, he’d lost Zeb, why not everything else, too?

Kallus’s roommates had showed up to the room prepared: while Zaarin had wrangled Kallus himself, Otto and Coryn had brought a crate full of lomin-ale and lum and other assorted alcohols. 

It felt silly, sitting in the room with the other men, drinking, but he didn’t turn down anything offered to him. He wasn’t sure he had the wherewithal to refuse at the moment, so he had to trust them.

Slowly, they pried the story out of him, or the bare bones of it anyway. Most of it was guess-work on their part that he simply confirmed or denied.

“That’s a bunch of bantha shit,” Coryn said. “Laser brain leading you on like that.”

“He didn’t,” Kallus tried to correct. “From the start, we agreed it was just sex. I’m the one who wanted to change the terms.”

“Doesn’t make him in the right.” Otto took a swig. “If he’d done that after you said your piece, that’d be one thing. But without even knowing what you wanted to talk about? Stang, that’s cold.”

They all looked up when a soft knock came at their door sometime close to dinner. Otto hopped up and let in Jaci.

“Hey, I heard what happened,” she said and tossed a small bag to Kallus. “Chocolates. My personal stash. If it were me, I’d need some.”

Kallus set the bag aside. He’d give it back before she left; he couldn’t take from Jaci. “Did Zeb tell you?” he asked, proud of the way he didn’t hesitate over Zeb’s name.

Jaci settled in on the other bed, between Otto and Coryn. “No,” she said gently. “Fulcrum, it’s… it’s all over base right now. Everyone knew what you two were up to and with the way Zeb stormed off and then you showed up in the medbay looking like someone kicked your tooka kitten? They put two and two together.”

Kallus groaned, burying his head in his hands. “So much for discretion.”

Next to him, Zaarin placed a warm hand on his back. “It’s okay. So people know you had a breakup. The gossip’ll move on the next time something interesting happens.”

 _How long will that be?_ Kallus wondered. _It can’t come soon enough._

“Was Zeb–?” asked Otto.

“No.” Jaci shook her head. “I haven’t seen him or tried to talk to him since this morning. I think he’s holed up in the _Ghost_.”

The _Ghost_. Where Kallus had woken up, thinking all was well. Where Kallus had fallen asleep, safe and warm in Zeb’s arms.

Where he might never go again.

He flexed his free hand, squeezing the lum bottle tightly with his other. Bright red spots appeared on the white gloves, sneaking out from under the awkward bandages. 

The blood seemed incongruous. He didn’t feel like he had a heart anymore; how could there still be blood?

 _Stars, you’re melodramatic, Alexsandr. It wasn’t even a real relationship. It was a_ – _a friendship at most. And you’re fine without those. You always have been._

“Hey,” said Jaci, moving to stand in front of Kallus, bent with a hand on her knees. She waved a hand in his face until he looked up at her. “It doesn’t matter what Zeb did. You’ve still got all of us. You’ve still got friends.”

Kallus blinked, aware that his roommates were nodding agreement. He’d… never quite considered that he could call this group his friends. They were people thrown together by the Logistics department, not by choice. They were forced to spend time together.

How did that translate to friendship?

Looking around, Kallus realized that somehow, it translated perfectly.

The next morning, Kallus woke filled with purpose.

Or at least it felt like purpose. Righteous anger might have been a better description.

The day before, he’d been shaken. Knocked off his feet. Grievously wounded.

No more. 

If Zeb wanted nothing to do with him, Kallus would get by just fine. He’d discovered he had friends other than Zeb, other than the _Ghost_ crew who were certainly circling around Zeb to protect him from retaliation.

Kallus wasn’t going to retaliate, though he was sorely tempted to try something. He was going to go about his day as if nothing had changed. He had work that would keep him busy and he knew exactly how to spend his free evenings.

He’d fallen asleep curled around his pillow, facing the wall, and woke in that same position, joints popping as he stretched out and sat up.

On the other bed, Zaarin was conked out in the top bunk while Otto and Coryn slept in an uncomfortable-looking pile on the bottom bunk. Jaci must have slipped out sometime after they all fell asleep.

There, in that room, were the few people Kallus didn’t feel anger toward, at least not at the moment. Everyone else, everyone who dared gossip about him, gossip about Zeb? They could kriff themselves.

Particularly one Garazeb Orrelios.

_No, I don’t really mean that._

_Yes, I do._

Kallus went about his day, fury simmering underneath his skin, leaving him hot and flushed and ready to lash out. He controlled himself, for the most part, only sniping at some of the new recruits sent to fill out the squadrons under his command.

Compared to some of his days as ISB, Kallus felt like he’d behaved fairly mildly. Or at least he did until Madine called for him as he gathered his belongings for the day.

“Walk with me,” the general said.

Kallus didn’t have the rank to disobey. He fell in step with Madine, a slow leisurely pace that would take them a few extra minutes to get back to the main base. Kallus itched to go faster, but the general didn’t increase his speed.

“How are you doing today, Captain?” Madine asked after a moment.

 _Furious. Aching. Screaming inwardly. Ready to eviscerate someone._ “Fine, sir.”

Madine actually laughed, scratching at the reddish beard he’d grown in since joining the Rebellion. “I’m serious, Captain. I don’t give base gossip much credence, but watching you today, I have to wonder.”

Kallus’s cheeks reddened, as much from anger as from embarrassment. His personal life was – theoretically – none of Madine’s business, but if it was actually affecting his performance… “I apologize if I wasn’t at my best today,” he said. “I shall endeavor to do better tomorrow.”

Madine nodded. “Tomorrow. Do you need another day off or will you be ‘fine’ again tomorrow?”

 _‘Fine’. Don’t mock me, general. Not today._ Kallus glared at the path as they walked. “I plan to be back on form.”

Madine stopped and Kallus pulled up short. “Kallus,” he said kindly. “That was meant genuinely. I would rather you take the day off than take your ire out on your commandos. They’ve proven their loyalties and skills to you and to the Rebellion. Lieutenant Towan can handle training for a few days if you need time.”

 _Why don’t they just let Towan handle training from here on out and I’ll leave the Rebellion? I’ll go disappear so that no one in the Rebellion has to deal with me when I’m ‘fine’._ “That won’t be necessary,” Kallus said, trying to sound calmer than his thoughts. “I would prefer to be working.”

The two men studied each other for a moment, Kallus trying to hide the rage he felt, trying to convince Madine with a look that he was more than competent for his job.

Madine nodded. “Then I’ll expect you back on the fields in the morning. But I also expect the best from you. I know your reputation from the ISB and what I’ve seen has only confirmed those rumors. Give me that Captain Kallus and we won’t have any problems.”

“Sir,” Kallus said curtly. _I **will not** let Gar_– **_Zeb_** _mess up my position with the commandos. I **will not** be transferred in shame again._

Madine started walking again, faster and in silence until they neared the temple. “Get some rest tonight, Captain. Tomorrow is a new day.”

 _‘Tomorrow is a new day’?_ Kallus had to fight not to sneer at the platitude. “Have a good evening, sir.”

Kallus watched Madine head off, not particularly caring where his superior went, and headed to the mess hall. The mess would likely be a safe spot as the Spectres tended to eat by themselves, but Kallus grabbed his dinner – and a few extra items – to go anyway.

Besides, he had a mission for the night. Something that would entirely distract him.

The Rebellion’s detention center was nothing like any in the Empire. It’d been set up in the underground level of the temple Kallus had cleared and mostly saw belligerent drunks and brawlers, not actual prisoners. 

Lyste sat in the closest cell, a primitive room with actual durasteel bars forming the front wall. The second Kallus walked into the hall, Lyste sat up as tall as he could manage, glaring.

The guards divested Kallus of nearly everything, leaving only the fruits he’d brought to ply Lyste with. One let him in Lyste’s cell with a stern reminder that if Lyste tried to hurt him, it’d take them a bit to get to him, so his safety was on his own head.

Kallus simply nodded. He didn’t have to point out to either Lyste or the guard that someone of his height and build could easily overpower someone of Lyste’s – and _had_ done so in the past, shaking the young man like a ragdoll as he falsely accused him of being Fulcrum.

Lyste said nothing, preferring to keep up his steady glare. Devoid of his Imperial uniform, dark brown hair uncombed and unkempt, he looked even more boyish than ever, though Kallus knew he was in his mid-twenties, young to have achieved the rank he did.

Almost as fast an advancement as Kallus’s himself.

Sitting on the bench across from Lyste, Kallus took a bite of one of the two muja fruits he’d brought with him and offered Lyste the other. The young man snatched it from his hand and Kallus could tell from the way he eyed the fruit that he was shocked to find the Rebellion had non-synthesized foodstuffs.

Just as Kallus had been.

That, then, was his opener. 

“My first meal here, they gave me a sandwich. A poor thing, just meat and bread, but after all those ration bars and protein shakes, it was as delicious as the finest steak. I hope they have fed you as well or better.” Kallus noticed Lyste still watching the fruit cautiously. “It isn’t poisoned, Yogar. It’s the real thing, available to any of the Rebels here who eat in the mess hall.”

“What are you doing here, Kallus?” Lyste asked, passing the large red fruit from hand to hand. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Then who are you talking to?” Kallus asked, doing his best to keep his voice light.

He didn’t succeed. Lyste’s eyes narrowed. “You’re upset,” he said, reading Kallus unnervingly well.

Well, perhaps Lyste had learned his moods better than Kallus ever meant for him to. The lieutenant was easily flustered, but sharp when he was calm. “I am,” Kallus said, not bothering to deny it. “But that has nothing to do with why I’m here.”

“Does it have to do with the lasat?” Lyste asked in a nasty tone.

Kallus bit his lip, barely noticing the red juice running down his arm where he squeezed the muja fruit. _How in all the Sith hells did **Lyste** hear about that? Did the guards talk in front of him? Or is he just stabbing into the dark, hoping to hit something?_

Lyste leaned back, a horrified expression on his face. “I thought they were joking – _you_ , of all people, with a _beast_ like that – but it’s true, isn’t it?”

Kallus dared not react, dared not bite off a defense of Zeb, nor a snippy complaint that he wasn’t _with_ Zeb and hadn’t ever really been.

“That’s why you turned traitor, then? For an alien. No wonder there were never romantic rumors about you: you were saving yourself for a beast.”

“You’re wrong,” Kallus said, forcing his voice to be even. “The lasat set me on the path to defect, yes, but that was all. The Empire did the rest themselves.”

“Thrawn said you and the lasat were stranded together and that’s where he turned you.” Lyste’s eyes had grown wide again. “You managed to trick your interrogator when you came back, hide him from us.”

 _Us. Lyste puts himself in the same category as Thrawn. Interesting._ “I did,” Kallus said. “It was a situation where we had to rely on each other to survive. I didn’t care to face the consequences of not killing him, so I lied. You should understand that, Yogar. Lying is a survival mechanism in the Empire.”

“Particularly when you’re a traitor,” Lyste muttered.

“Particularly when you’ve seen what the Empire truly is,” Kallus corrected. “I would tell you to follow the same research path I took, but you aren’t allowed access to the HoloNet, so I’ll just have to walk you through it. To start, do you know what happened to the Geonosians?”

Lyste looked away. “I’m not listening to your efforts to recruit me, _Fulcrum_. I know my loyalties.”

“I thought I did, too,” Kallus confessed, taking the last few bites of his muja fruit before continuing. “All right, then. You talk instead. Tell me what happened to you after you were hauled away. Thrawn left me with the impression you’d been sent to a black site prison.”

“Not that you cared,” Lyste said bitterly.

 _Oh, I cared. I simply cared a great deal more about aiding the Rebellion._ “I saw you leave on that transport, in binders and under guard, with other prisoners. How did you go from there to Foerost?”

“‘Leave’ is too kind a word. ‘Forced onto’ is perhaps better.” Lyste shook his head. “Colonel Yularen was on that transport. He took me aside, freed me, and told me the truth – that _you_ were the spy, not Pryce. After the other prisoners were dropped off, Yularen took me to the ISB center on Foerost.”

Kallus cringed inwardly; he knew exactly what happened to non-ISB in that facility. “And they guaranteed your loyalty there, didn’t they?”

“I was reminded that _you_ are to blame for my predicament. For all I know, you were behind every mishap I’ve had, even that fiasco with the Alderaanian princess.”

“You know better than that,” Kallus said. “That may have been the _Ghost_ crew, but I was still loyal at that point.”

“That’s right,” Lyste said. “You didn’t turn traitor until you spent the night with the lasat.”

Anger surged within Kallus again, but he swallowed it. “ _Stranded_ with the lasat,” he said. “None of that was voluntary.”

“But betraying us was,” Lyste accused.

Kallus shrugged. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. My honor demanded I follow up on the questions the lasat posed, and those questions led me to change my loyalties. I believe they’d change yours, too.” He leaned forward. “What does it mean if the Empire was the force behind the Geonosian genocide? They already cleared Lasan, so it was hardly unprecedented.”

Lyste sat straight, back against the wall, eyes looking anywhere but Kallus. “The Geonosians must have been in rebellion,” he said.

“Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. But the real reason they had to die is because they saw what the Empire is building.”

Lyste frowned. “‘What the Empire is building’? What _are_ they building?”

“I don’t know,” Kallus admitted, “except that it’s larger than an _Executor_ -class destroyer. They’re packing it with kyber crystals. And whatever it is, Krennic is overseeing it.”

“That’s hardly proof of anything,” Lyste scoffed, but his brow was furrowed in concern.

He was getting through. Wary of pushing his luck, Kallus decided to change the topic to something a little closer to home. “When they sent you to Foerost, did they allow you to tell your family? Or does everyone on Garel think you’re dead?”

“How did you know where–” Lyste looked surprised for a moment, then set his face back in a frown. “Of course you read my file. You probably read everyone’s files.”

“I did,” Kallus confirmed. “It was part of my job from the moment I arrived on Lothal, back when you were still just a supply master. I’m genuinely curious, though: does your family know you’re alive? Do you want to get a message to them? I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“Please tell them what planet I’m on so they can come to visit,” Lyste said facetiously.

Lyste’s needling was getting under Kallus’s skin. He stood and handed Lyste the rest of the food he’d brought. “I’ll see if we can let them know you’re safe,” he said before signaling one of the guards.

Lyste stood, too, as he left, but made no effort to run.

“I’ll be back,” Kallus promised. “We’ll talk. I’ll show you the evidence that changed my mind and you can make your own decision.”

“I’m not a traitor!” Lyste insisted.

“Not to the Empire, not yet. But at some point you’ll see, you’ll either have to betray them or yourself.” Kallus nodded at the young man. “Until tomorrow, Yogar.”

Without the distraction of Zeb, Kallus focused on himself once more. He recreated his Imperial workout routine as best he could with Rebellion facilities and put his commandos through intensive training sessions.

He didn’t want to lose any more of them. 

He didn’t want to lose any more of anything.

Every evening, he ran the five kilometers to the secondary temple site, where he visited with Lyste for an hour or so before running back. Every evening, he pried a little further under Lyste’s shell, learning just what Yularen had put the young man through and how much of his loyalty was actually sheer terror.

It’d been two weeks since Zeb and despite his normal outward activities, inside he still wrestled with extremes of anger – how _dare_ Zeb do that to him? – and depression – of _course_ Zeb dumped him; he was only ever good for casual sex and could never have been loved back.

Either way, he knew he’d been moronic for thinking he could kiss Zeb and get a positive reaction.

Kallus ran through the jungle, the sounds of his feet hitting the cleared path and his paced breaths filling his ears. He was focused, so focused he almost didn’t notice Kanan Jarrus on the path ahead of him.

The Jedi waved. Kallus nodded as if Kanan could see him and passed by.

“Kallus!” Kanan called.

Reluctantly, Kallus pulled up short and turned around. “Kanan,” he said, tone carefully not welcoming conversation.

The Jedi ignored his tone, of course. “Hadn’t seen you in a while. Are you doing okay?”

Kallus snorted. “Better than ever,” he lied. “If you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of something.”

Kanan held up a hand to stall him. “Stay for a moment. I’m waiting on Ezra; he’s supposed to be bonding with a whisper bird, but he’s got to sneak up on one first.”

Kallus looked out into the jungle; no sign of the boy, of course. Jedi teachings mystified him and Kallus wanted nothing to do with them. “That’s nice.”

Kanan laughed. “It’s training, at least. Do you run out here every day?”

After considering running on and ignoring Kanan’s questions and dismissing it as too rude, Kallus said, “Yes. Five kilometers there and back.”

“How is it going with the lieutenant?”

Of course Kanan read between the lines and knew why Kallus ran this path. “I’m working on him,” he said. “I believe he will come around.”

“Has he forgiven you?” Kanan’s mask kept his face inscrutable, to Kallus’s irritation.

 _Ah._ “That, I’m not sure will ever happen. But he _is_ thinking more critically.”

“That’s good,” Kanan nodded. “So, Kallus, you should know Zeb–”

“No.” Kallus cut him off sharply. “I don’t need to know anything about Zeb. I know he told you what we did, but that’s over. What he’s doing, how he feels, what he wants: none of that matters to me anymore.”

He stared at the Jedi, daring the man to contradict his statement.

Kanan held up his hands in surrender. “All right, I won’t mention Zeb. I won’t even tell him we talked.”

Kallus forced himself to be polite. “Thank you.”

“I _will_ tell you the rest of the family are wondering about you.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Kallus said. “You Spectres don’t need me on missions anymore and my guys can use the extra training.”

“And you’ve got people to talk to?” Kanan asked gently.

 _That’s none of your business._ “Yes. If I want company, my roommates are almost always available.” 

_Truth be told, I’d be lost if it weren’t for them helping keep me on the straight and narrow right now._

Kanan crossed his arms. “Ezra’s pushing for his Lothal mission again,” he said. “I think we’ll need you for that one.”

Kallus gulped. He owed it to Lothal and all the citizens he’d terrorized to help free them from Imperial occupation, but a mission with the Spectres? With Zeb? That would be tough. “If you need me, you know where to find me,” he said.

“Running this path every evening, I know,” Kanan said. “I’m sorry I stopped you. Good luck with Lyste. He didn’t seem like a _bad_ kid, just misguided.”

 _I wish I could say I’d merely been misguided._ “He’s a true believer, but so was I. He can come around.” Kallus nodded out of habit. “Keep me posted on the Lothal mission, then. Let me know if my commandos can help.”

Kanan smiled. “I will. Take care of yourself, Kallus. You don’t have to hold so much anger.”

Kallus’s eyes narrowed. _Of course I do. It’s all I have left._ “Take care yourself, Kanan.”

Starting off at a jog to work his speed back up, Kallus left Kanan behind.

Running into the Jedi was always slightly uncomfortable, even more so now that he and Zeb were on poor terms. At least he’d prodded only a little. Perhaps he’d even bought Kallus’s lies.

If only Kallus were that lucky.

He breathed deeply, evenly, as he ran, letting the anger bleed out with every breath. Maybe Kanan was right. Maybe he needed to let go of his anger.

If that was even possible.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes events from episodes 4-05 The Occupation through 4-11 DUME.

_Lothal_. Seemed like they could never get free of that place.

Of course, Zeb reasoned, it was Ezra’s home planet, so of course he wanted to go back and help. And Ezra was family, so Zeb would do whatever it took to help him, up to and including returning to the Imperial stronghold that was Lothal.

They’d asked a few people for help, but Zeb hadn’t counted on Kallus showing up to the _Ghost_ , bag in hand.

He stood above the hold, watching Hera and Kallus talk.

It’d been a year since they rescued Kallus from the space above Atollon. Four months since he’d broken off their… whatever it was. Four months during which Zeb had done his best to avoid Kallus.

And after all that, the man had the nerve to show up and _volunteer_ for what was probably a suicide mission?

Zeb had gotten past Kallus, he’d thought. He’d certainly tried. He hadn’t let himself mope, hadn’t let himself dwell on what might have been. He’d focused on each mission as they came, convinced that to look much further ahead would be pointless.

Seeing Kallus with a duffel slung over his shoulder, though, made Zeb realize just how very much _not_ over Kallus he was. He still felt that same painful clenching of his heart he had when he’d made the decision to end things. If he closed his eyes, he remembered the feel of those long, slender fingers running through his fur and heard the sound of that low, smooth voice whispering in his ear.

Zeb shivered, trying to push it all back. He’d ended things for a _solid and logical reason_ and he needed to be thinking about that. He didn’t need his heart broken again.

His ears perked up, hearing Kanan walk up behind him. “What’s he doing here, Kanan?” Zeb asked, a low growl, even though he knew Kanan didn’t have the answer.

“I invited him.”

Okay, Zeb was wrong: Kanan did know. “You what?”

“Months back,” Kanan said, gesturing as he spoke. “The Lothal mission came up, he said he wanted to help out and I told him to join us. Looks like he didn’t forget.”

Despite his initial instinct, Zeb did not let himself get angry. Instead, he grumbled, “Why would he want to help us?”

Kanan frowned, leaning forward a bit so Zeb was looking at his face. “You know why.”

Zeb did. Unless he’d changed a lot in the past few months, Kallus still felt guilty for all he did as an ISB agent. Given the chance, he’d certainly help try to free one of the planets he’d oppressed.

“Fine,” Zeb huffed. He turned as Kallus headed into the ship, thinking he’d hide in his cabin for much of the ride. It wasn’t like he’d be needed for the first part of their journey, anyway.

Karking puffer pigs. His face wasn’t _that_ scary.

Two days into the mission, Zeb had successfully managed to avoid _talking_ to Kallus, even if he couldn’t avoid the man himself.

The _Ghost_ was not a huge ship. It wasn’t tiny, but it was still small enough that they were bound to meet – in halls, in the common room for planning and meals, passing on the way to the refresher in the middle of the night.

Zeb handled all their meetings with a calm and mannered nod.

Or at least he tried to. Inwardly, he was dying.

He wanted to touch Kallus again, to blend their scents together, to _talk_ to the man who used to be one of his best friends.

But if he said anything, Zeb was afraid he’d blurt out the truth and that was too dangerous a risk to take. So Zeb ignored Kallus at mealtimes, letting the human stay quiet while Zeb pretended to be his usual boisterous self.

For his part, Kallus stayed focused on the objective in meetings and kept his head down at meals, speaking only when spoken to.

As a détente, it worked quite well. If they could keep it up for a few more hours, they would be headed separate directions and Zeb wouldn’t have to worry about Kallus any more.

The humans and Hera had loaded the puffer pigs into the hold while Zeb lounged in his cabin, trying to read a holonovel Sabine had picked up on base. They were in hyperspace, en route to their rendezvous with Vizago when there was a knock at his door.

“Go away, Kanan,” he called. The Jedi had been trying to get him to reconcile somehow with Kallus, apparently realizing that the only way they could be reconciled would be if Zeb could get rid of his feelings for Kallus – which didn’t seem to be happening.

The knock came again.

“ _Kanan,_ ” Zeb warned.

No more knocks came, but whoever it was didn’t leave, so Zeb tossed the holonovel onto the bed beside him and opened the door.

Kallus stood there.

Zeb reached out for the controls one more time, to close the door again, but Kallus stuck his hand in the way, stopping the door from sliding shut.

“Wait, Zeb. Garazeb.”

Hearing his name like that again, pronounced properly and as if Kallus actually cared, felt like a punch in the gut. However, Kallus sounded earnest so Zeb paused. “What is it, Kal?” He tried to sound disinterested, but didn’t think he quite achieved that.

“I– I wanted to say may the Force be with you on Lothal,” Kallus said, not quite meeting Zeb’s eyes. “You’ll need it.”

Zeb hmphed. “Didn’t think you much agreed with the Force.”

“The Ashla, then,” Kallus said – as if the Ashla meant something to him. “Luck, fortune, the Force, whatever you want to call it. I mean to say come back safe, all of you.”

“All of us?” Zeb asked. “For someone who volunteered to come along on this mission, you didn’t argue hard when Hera said you and Rex were staying with the ship.”

Kallus flushed a little. “She made a very good point: inserting you six with disguises will be difficult enough. Adding a seventh person who is visually unique would only make your task that much harder. Staying in reserve may be the best I can do.”

Zeb snorted. “‘Visually unique’? Kal, just say you stick out in a crowd and you like it that way.”

“Perhaps,” Kallus allowed. “But my original point still stands: you’ll need the Ashla on your side. I merely wanted to say something before we part ways.”

Kallus was fidgeting with his hands, curling them into fists and rubbing fingertips together while he held them at his sides, Zeb noted. _He wants to do something. What could he want?_

“Was that it?” Zeb asked.

“No, I–” Kallus cut himself off with a shake of his head. He held a hand out, as if to shake. “Even with all that has happened between us, I would hate to hear something happened to you. I would hate it even more if we parted on poor terms. Do you think we can start over in the little time we have left?”

Zeb squinted. “Start over? Back to when you were ISB? Or back to Bahryn?”

“I was thinking our arrival on Yavin,” Kallus said. “As allies, if not quite friends. I’m not asking that of you.”

Thinking for a moment, Zeb took Kallus’s hand. In a vain attempt not to focus on the feel of the human’s hand engulfed in his, Zeb stared at Kallus’s face.

That wasn’t much better; he saw the sincerity in Kallus’s eyes.

After a moment, once he was sure his voice wouldn’t break, Zeb said, “Allies, then.”

“Good.” Kallus took his hand back. “There’s something else I should tell you.”

“What?” Zeb asked warily, crossing his arms.

Kallus wouldn’t meet his eyes. He spoke quickly. “On Axxila, when you kissed my cheeks, I didn’t understand what that meant. I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t kiss me. I didn’t understand for far too long, but I do now.” 

_You understand what?_ Zeb thought bitterly. _That I wanted more from you than just sex? That you wish you hadn’t asked me for it?_ “And?”

Kallus started fidgeting again, but forced himself to look Zeb in the eyes. “And I wish I’d known sooner, is all. I apologize for not looking into your customs before imposing mine on you.”

Zeb let his arms down slowly, surprised. “Kal, you coulda just asked me.”

“No, I couldn’t have, not at the time,” Kallus said. “But time makes things a little clearer – or at least it has for me.”

“Why would you bring any of that up now?” Zeb asked.

Kallus arched his eyebrows knowingly, yet his face remained downcast. “It’s a major mission, Garazeb. If this was my last chance to tell you, I wanted to take it. I don’t expect anything from you except that you try to survive.”

The ship shuddered momentarily as the _Ghost_ exited hyperspace. Kallus gripped the doorway to keep his feet. Zeb rocked, but he was still processing Kallus’s words.

“Take care, Garazeb,” the human said, turning and walking towards the cockpit. Zeb watched him straighten up, clasp his hands behind his back, and drawl some comment about Vizago being distasteful.

Zeb headed the other direction, sliding down the ladder to the walkway over the hold. He leaned in the doorway, watching as the others all prepared to offload the puffer pigs.

_‘I wish I’d known sooner’? What the kriff does that mean? Would he have kissed me back? Would he have pushed me away? Would he have never tormented me with the idea of ‘casual’ sex?_

Zeb huffed, a sour expression forming on his face. Just like Kallus to give him something to think about when he needed to focus on the mission.

The mission went as Spectre missions often did: success coming right on the heels of danger, fear, and trouble.

They’d made it onto Lothal – barely. They’d stolen a TIE-Defender Elite prototype – scavenging the data recorder and hyperdrive before it was destroyed. They’d used the ship’s hyperdrive to repair Ryder Azadi’s U-wing – successfully. They’d sent Hera back to Yavin with the starfighter’s data recorder – with no real hope for reinforcements.

Reinforcements had come, however.

And those reinforcements were dying.

Zeb watched what appeared to be a meteor shower over Capital City, gut twisting. “What is that?” he asked, hoping his hunch was wrong.

“Is that–?” Ezra asked, disbelief in his voice.

Sabine took off her helmet, staring. “The entire attack force.”

Zeb could only imagine what Kanan must be feeling, watching the ships fall from the sky, knowing Hera was in one of them.

At least he had the Force to tell him if she was alive.

She must be. Kanan was tense, but not distraught.

“Kanan, let’s go,” Zeb said, turning back to the speeder bikes. He was glad to see this time, Ezra didn’t even try to get in his seat. Zeb paused, waiting for Kanan to follow before setting off.

They were almost far enough out of tow to set off across the plains again when Kanan skidded to a stop, everyone else following suit.

He had to go back, he said. Had to do something.

Zeb nodded. He understood. He loved Hera, but Kanan _loved_ Hera. There would be no getting between them if Kanan could help it.

So when Kanan showed back up at dawn, with only Mart Mattin and Chopper in tow, Zeb was a little surprised.

He approached Kanan slowly, one brow raised in question, hoping for some form of good news.

“She’s alive,” Kanan said, and that was all the good Zeb was hoping for, “but the Empire has her."

“Then let’s go! Let’s get her back!” said Ezra, heading straight for the speeders.

“No, kid.” Zeb reached out and grabbed Ezra by the back of his shirt. “We need a plan first.”

Everyone looked at Kanan expectantly. He shook his head. “I need to meditate. Alone.”

Kanan pushed through the gathered Rebels – confused, anxious, antsy Rebels – and deeper into the rock formation, towards the rising sun.

Zeb watched him go, remembering mornings spent in meditation with his Honor Guard. He thought about joining Kanan but thought better of it. The Jedi needed to be alone.

“Mart, who else survived?” Sabine asked.

Mart shrugged one shoulder, almost flippant if one didn’t look at his face. “I don’t know. I only saw Hera, but everyone got hit. I think they might all be gone.”

“Who all’s ‘they’?” Zeb asked.

“Phoenix and Talon.”

Phoenix. Hera’s survivors from Atollon, all gone except for Mart.

Maybe.

Talon, though? Zeb knew that name. Why did he know that squadron, besides having worked on their Y-wings?

_Maks. Jaci’s cousin, the one she joined the Rebellion to watch out for. He was in that squadron._

Zeb gulped. He’d tried to avoid Jaci the last few months as well, seeing as she was in a relationship with two of Kallus’s roommates, but he hadn’t been able to avoid her entirely. And he certainly hadn’t forgotten her efforts to get him to open up, long conversations over open engines, stories of mischief with her cousin, and Jaci’s plans for them all after the war.

 _Someone has to make it back and tell Jaci what happened,_ Zeb thought, almost blankly. _She needs to know about Maks._

Zeb looked across the plains to Capital City. Hera was still alive there, at least for the time being. Had anyone else survived? Would they ever know?

Zeb let the kids go down the turbolift first, choosing to stay on top of the comm tower Ezra used to call home for a few more minutes.

He glanced inside the tower: there were still signs of Ezra’s youth in there, but there were also the smashed remains of communications equipment.

 _Kal got caught here_ , he thought. _Thrawn followed him here and used him to find us._ Was this where he’d been tortured as well?

Zeb blinked. He shouldn’t be thinking of Kallus. He _wasn’t._ He was only thinking of Hera and of Kanan and the kids. He was thinking how to protect them all, not wondering what Kallus had meant back on the _Ghost_. Not wishing that Kallus meant he – still – wanted more than to just be allies.

No, Zeb was definitely not thinking of Kallus and all the injuries Thrawn left him with when he escaped at Atollon.

He was trying to figure out how to help the kids enact their crazy plan to make gliders.

The turbolift reached the top again, opening with a labored _swoosh_. Zeb stepped in and prayed to the Ashla that he’d make it to the ground safely.

The kids didn’t even wait for him, setting off on their speeders as soon as Zeb emerged from the comm tower. He hopped on his and sped after them, not quite overtaking them.

He wasn’t thinking about riding a speeder through the jungle wedged in behind Kallus as he rode.

Kanan was waiting for them. “Do you have a plan?” he asked Ezra.

“We do,” Ezra confirmed. “We’re going to be loth-bats.”

“Loth-bats?” Kanan almost sounded amused. “How’s that work?”

While Ezra broke down his plan for Kanan, Zeb tapped Sabine on the shoulder and pulled her aside.

“Where are we getting the materials for these gliders?” he asked, looking around the poor base: just cliffs, a cave, and some rock formations, really.

Sabine gestured to the Mining Guild crawler. “We can start there. Strip the inside for sheet metal and framework.”

Zeb stretched his arms. “Guess that’s my cue to start ripping things up.”

“I’ll help,” said Kanan, brandishing his lightsaber hilt as he followed Zeb into the crawler.

They worked well together, Zeb and Kanan. They always had. Ever since Kanan had broken into Slaver’s Bay on Sleheyron, he and Zeb had made a good team.

Zeb drew out where to cut and Kanan somehow followed his hand, slicing off bits of sheet metal and railings, leaving Zeb to pile them up when the edges cooled enough. They moved quickly.

Zeb should have guessed things were going too well. Kanan stopped for a moment, as if he needed a break.

“Zeb?” he said slowly. “There’s something you should know.”

“Well, nothing good ever follows _that_ ,” Zeb grumbled. “What’s wrong with the plan? What didn’t you tell the kids?”

Kanan smiled softly and shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong with the plan. In fact, I think the Force is at least partially behind the plan. No, Zeb, you need to know about Kallus.”

Zeb looked away. “No, I don’t.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Kanan waited for Zeb to turn back. “Yes, you do. I know why you did what you did. But I talked to Kallus a time or two after and he was hurt. _Really_ hurt. I think– I think maybe you misjudged, buddy.”

 _Misjudged? How? He’d have said something._ “I was right the first time. It’s nothing good. Kanan, whatever happened with Kal is _over_. I’m past it. He’s past it. Don’t go stirring things up.”

“You’re not past it,” Kanan said simply.

Zeb knew in his gut that Kanan was right.

“ _He’s_ not past it,” the Jedi added. “When you see him again, tell him why you broke it off. The _whole_ story, not the short version you told him before.”

“When?” Zeb laughed defensively. “Kanan, you’re a bit too optimistic about our chances. You really think gliders are gonna get you into the Dome?”

Kanan smiled. “I do. I wish they’d hold your weight so you could come, too, but someone’s gotta watch the camp – and if that alien shows up here, I trust you can protect the others.”

Zeb cracked his knuckles. “I owe that alien a good ass-kicking,” he said. “He’ll get his due.”

“I know he will.” Kanan patted Zeb’s back. “But don’t forget what I said before: talk to Kallus when you see him again. Promise me that much.”

Sighing, Zeb slouched a little. “Fine, if it means that much to you, mate. But I think it’ll just cause trouble.”

“Trust me,” Kanan said. “If we follow the Force and the Ashla through this, everything will work out like it’s supposed to.”

“Okay, _that_ sounded ominous, too,” Zeb pointed out.

Kanan just smiled. “Take care of everyone, Zeb.”

“This is one of those times I’m glad the Force is with you,” Zeb had told Kanan, just before launching him into the sky on a makeshift glider. 

Zeb hoped he’d been right.

They were gone now, the kids and Kanan, and all Zeb could do was wait with Chopper for them to return. They were far enough away from the city that Zeb couldn’t see it, even with macrobinoculars.

Chopper tweetled something and rolled off to bother Mart and Ezra’s friend Jai Kell. 

Zeb noticed most everyone was bedding down for the night. It _was_ time, but he knew he’d be up until the other Spectres returned safely.

What to do, besides take the night watch position? What to do, in order not to wonder about the mission?

One of the few perks of his outlandish disguise – _shoes, ugh_ – had been pockets. Zeb rifled through the pile of clothing he’d been using as a pillow and pulled out a personal datapad.

Settling in on the outskirts of the camp, Zeb pulled up the holo recording function of the datapad. He wasn’t one for keeping a diary, but he’d been recording a little each day.

He hoped, someday, the recordings would get transmitted to their intended recipient.

Kallus.

Kanan didn’t know, _couldn’t_ have known that Zeb was already confessing how he felt to Kallus, although there was a very good chance Kallus would never get the recordings.

They were just short bites of information, recorded whenever Zeb had a free moment, and told a disjointed story.

Zeb had time to record something proper, though. He started a new holo.

“Kal,” Zeb said, looking straight into the recorder. “If you’ve got this, I managed to hack into the Imperial comms.

“I know our situation down here. We sent Hera out on our only ship with a hyperdrive and she came back in an X-wing and crashed it. Short of you miraculously bringin’ the _Ghost_ through the blockade, I don’t see us gettin’ off this rock. Not as free beings, at least.

“So I guess I just wanted you to know a few things. You told me that you knew what the cheek kiss meant. And I guess you were trying to tell me that you’d’ve kissed me back if I’d tried again.

“I want you to know I meant it back on Axxila and I meant it all through – up to now, even. I just thought you needed a friend more than a lover.” Zeb laughed. “Guess we kriffed that one up.

“I shoulda told you no to all that. I shouldn’ta kept it going ‘cause there was a problem. The problem was that I loved you and I wanted more. Still do, when I’m not lyin’ to myself.”

Rubbing his face, Zeb continued. “You should know, I broke things off the way I did to protect myself. I couldn’t pretend that what we had was nothing more than friendship. I _loved_ you and I wanted you in my life.

“But you didn’t want that, I thought. You were pretty adamant about it when we started: no feelings. So when my feelings got to be too much, I walked away."

Zeb shook his head. “So now you know all that. Guess I should also tell you what’s happening down here so that someone knows what happened to us.

“We just sent Kanan an’ Ezra an’ Sabine off to go save Hera from Governor Pryce. Kanan seemed to think the Force’ll make their rescue work. I honestly don’t know if the Ashla’s with us or not. If I were still Honor Guard, I’d be meditating with my bo-rifle until they get back, but instead I’m pretending I’m talkin’ to you.

“Ashla, Kanan was right. I’m not over you.” Zeb looked away, across the plains towards the city. If the timing was right, the rescue team should have landed just a bit ago. If everything went smoothly, they could be headed back in half an hour. “I oughtta be anxious for the rescue team’s return, but I’m trusting Kanan and thinking of you instead. 

“Karabast, I hope I never send this,” Zeb admitted. “I hope we all make it off Lothal and you an’ I can go back to dancing around each other. I hope Kanan was also right when he said you’re not over me, so maybe we can do more than dance.”

Zeb stared at the holo for a moment, trying to think of something to say: something clever, something witty, something romantic.

Nothing came to mind.

He clicked off the recording and stared off into the night.

Dawn peeked over the horizon and Zeb stirred, the sound of an Imperial gunship approaching waking him quickly.

He stood, barely able to see the dot of the gunship against the bright sunrise. Either it was the rescue team returning or the Empire had sent a woefully small force against them.

Well, whoever the gunship brought, he might as well greet them.

Chopper tootled something, rolling up next to Zeb. That was probably a good sign; surely Chopper would have picked up on Imperial transmissions if it were an attack.

Walking towards the landing ship, Zeb waved, smiling, ready to see his family again. He _hated_ sitting out missions. Sure, being a lasat made him stand out, especially in an Imperial facility, but he still wanted to _help_.

The gunship set down, the doors opened, and a terrible smell wafted Zeb’s way: stress and grief and pain.

Something was wrong.

Stepping out of the ship, Sabine threw her Imperial helmet to the ground and it rolled to a stop at Zeb’s feet. Behind her, Ezra and Hera stumbled out of the back of the ship together.

“Sabine? What’s wrong?” Zeb asked, gut twisting in fear, but she walked right past him as if he weren’t even there. She wiped tears from her eyes onto her sleeve and marched into the camp. “Sabine!”

Zeb looked back and realized Kanan hadn’t left the ship. Was he hurt?

Hera walked off, away from the camp, away from people. Chopper quickly rolled to her side.

Grabbing Ezra by the shoulders, Zeb steadied him. “All right, kid,” he said seriously. “What’s going on?”

“Kanan’s gone,” Ezra said, preternaturally calm despite the stress smell rolling off him.

 _Gone. No. Kid doesn’t really mean that._ “What do you mean, gone? Like captured?” he asked, hopeful.

“No! He’s _gone_.” And with that, Ezra’s tears started falling.

With that, Zeb’s heart shattered.

He pulled Ezra into a hug, as much to hide his own reactions as to comfort his little brother.

Kanan was gone.

His best friend was dead.

 _Dead_ and _gone_ and Zeb had sat there all night, trusting Kanan when he’d said the Force would be with their mission.

 _Kara-kriffing-bast_ , what were they going to do without Kanan?

What was _Zeb_ going to do without Kanan?

His eyes narrowed and he hugged Ezra tighter as the teenager cried into his shoulder. 

They would just have to fight harder. The Empire had to pay for taking Kanan from them.

The whole kriffing Empire, if Zeb had to tear it down with his own claws.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with events from episodes 4-05 The Occupation through 4-14 A Fool’s Hope.

He’d had every intention of joining the Spectres on the surface of Lothal, but Hera had taken Kallus aside and explained things to him.

As he’d told Zeb, he would be hard to disguise, that was true. Having good people in reserve and advocating for them with the Alliance Council was important, that was also true.

He hadn’t expected the third reason to be Zeb himself, though.

“I can’t have you distracting him,” Hera said. “Look how bad he’s been the last two days – and you haven’t even talked. I need my family at its best and right now that means you don’t come with us to Lothal.”

There’d been nothing Kallus could do besides agree.

Hera couldn’t stop him from talking to Zeb while they were all still on the _Ghost_ , however, and when Kallus and Rex detached the _Ghost_ from the _Broken Horn_ , Kallus felt at peace about things with Zeb for the first time in a very long time.

 _Allies_. They’d started in a much worse place four years before, so Kallus was already ahead there. And he’d told Zeb how he’d felt back before things ended, albeit in a roundabout fashion.

Short of trying to kiss the lasat’s cheek – and Kallus _had_ been tempted – he’d said and done everything he could have.

Kallus wasn’t deluding himself. He knew that might have been his last conversation with Zeb. He knew how small the chances of success were.

 _Ashla, bring them all back. Bring Zeb back to me,_ he prayed as the _Broken Horn_ jumped to hyperspace.

The _Ghost_ hung in space, Rex and Kallus sitting in silence. At first, Kallus had been ashamed when Rex kicked him out of the pilot’s chair, but after considering it, Kallus had to admit he was right. Even if Kallus had more skill piloting ships of the _Ghost_ ’s size, Rex was part of her family.

Kallus was only the backup.

They sat for an hour longer than necessary, waiting for some signal that the Spectres needed help, needed the _Ghost_ to come flying in to the rescue.

It never came.

“Well,” Rex said. “Back to Yavin, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” echoed Kallus. “They’re either through the blockade or they’re…”

“Yeah.” Rex flipped a few switches. “You mind handling the navicomp since they took the droid with ‘em?”

Kallus nodded and used the computer to make the hyperspace calculations that would take them back to the base.

As soon as the calculations were made, Rex launched the ship, the swirling maelstrom of hyperspace glowing outside the viewport.

Stretching, Kallus stifled a yawn. “I think I’m going to rest, unless you need me here.”

Rex shook his head. “I’m good.” As Kallus stood, Rex reached out and tugged the edge of his coat. “Why don’t you take a different bunk? No sense us both being in one with no one else on the ship.”

He had a point, Kallus had to concede, but what bunk did he move to?

_You know what bunk you’re moving to. Don’t lie to yourself, Alexsandr._

Going in Hera or Sabine’s cabins would feel like trespassing, Kallus reasoned. Anyway, the paint job in Sabine’s? _That_ would keep him wide awake.

No, the only choice was Zeb and Ezra’s.

Maybe Zeb wouldn’t mind sharing just the once. He’d let Kallus use his bunk after Atollon and that’s where they were starting again from, right? This was just… solidly starting over.

Without Zeb or Ezra, the cabin felt hollow and lonely. They’d packed much of their belongings, and the emptiness of the room weighed on Kallus’s shoulders. 

He set his bag down by the bed and crawled in, reaching in the drawer by the foot of the bed for a blanket and pillow. Resisting a childish urge to cover his face with the blanket, Kallus allowed himself to pull it up to his nose instead.

_Garazeb._

Kallus closed his eyes, keeping the blanket bunched up by his nose, and forced tense muscles to relax so he could sleep.

_I’ll see him again. We’ll have more time. I have to believe that._

“Shuura?” Kallus asked, handing one of the yellowish fruits to Lyste. 

The lieutenant took it eagerly. “Where does the Rebellion _find_ all this food?” he asked, turning the fruit over in his hands.

“You know I can’t tell you that, not yet.” Kallus sat on the bench next to Lyste this time.

“You’ve been gone a while. Another mission?”

“Yes,” Kallus answered. “A very important one.” He’d been by to see Lyste three or four times a week the last few months, talking to the young man, trying to bring him around to his way of thinking. It was hard when he couldn’t bring in datapads and evidence, instead relying on Lyste trusting his word.

 _That_ trust had taken a long time to rebuild.

“Did you think about what I said last time?” Kallus asked, knowing it was a pointless question. What else did Lyste have to think about, sitting alone in a cell?

Lyste sighed, putting off answering by taking a bite of the sweet fruit.

Kallus took that as a yes. “One of the things I realized was that the Empire assigns guilt by association or mere suspicion,” he said, starting on the line of thinking he wanted Lyste to ponder next.

“If you want to squash rebellion…” Lyste protested, but every day Kallus visited, his protests were weaker and weaker.

“Is it quashing rebellion or does it just force rebellion underground? Packing it tighter and tighter until it explodes?” Kallus asked. “Either you end up with a galaxy where the ISB rules and everyone is guilty, citizens snitching on each other to save their own skins, or you end up fomenting the exact rebellion you wanted to stamp out.”

“You don’t believe that,” Lyste said. “You can’t, that was your whole purpose in the Empire.”

Kallus turned his head to look Lyste right in his bright blue eyes. They’d had this same conversation before, in different permeations, but had yet to reach a resolution. “Learning the truth of that is what made me finally turn away from the Empire. The goal I wanted to achieve – assist in bringing peace and order to a galaxy worn by the ravages of the Old Republic and the Separatists – was not the goal of the Empire I had chosen to serve.”

Lyste slumped. “If the Emperor doesn’t want peace and order, then what does he want?”

 _I don’t know all of it. I don’t think anyone does._ “Lyste, how old were you when the Empire was founded?”

“Six,” Lyste answered. “But the Republic politicians didn’t fully hand over control over to Imperial governance on Garel until I was eight.”

Kallus nodded. “So you were too young to really remember the Republic. It was corrupt – I’m not sure we’ll ever know the full extent of it – and being from Coruscant, I saw it all close-up. Sometimes it seemed like Chancellor Palpatine was the only one who made any sense, so when he said the Jedi betrayed us, I believed him. I believed _in_ him. That’s why I became ISB.”

Lyste frowned. “But you changed. I haven’t.”

“You’re a true believer, like I was. Change won’t be easy. But if you are truly honest with yourself, Yogar, are you _proud_ of what the Empire made of you?”

Lyste quickly looked away.

Kallus pressed on. “Are you _proud_ of running people from their homes? Of arresting citizens for saying the wrong thing? Of watching the Empire run Garel and Lothal and all those other Outer Rim planets into the ground while they strip mine them to build weapons?”

Lyste started fidgeting, wringing his hands, letting Kallus know he was getting through to the young man.

“Would fourteen year old Yogar Lyste, who so eagerly enrolled in Lothal Academy, be proud of the things you’ve done since?”

“You don’t know what I was thinking at that age,” Lyste said. “That’s not in my files.”

Kallus huffed a laugh. “You’d be surprised what’s in an ISB file. I’ll allow the point, however. Personally speaking, I was sixteen when the Empire was established and already a cadet for the Republic. I guarantee you that while I was thrilled to serve the Emperor, I had no idea what was ahead for me. And…” he trailed off.

Lyste looked back. “And what?”

Sighing, Kallus answered. “And I’m ashamed to say I might have done it all anyway. Not proudly, but efficiently and effectively.”

“As you ever were,” Lyste grumbled.

“Indeed.” Kallus dared put a hand on Lyste’s shoulder. The guard outside started to say something, but Kallus cut him off with a glare. “Yogar, think about that. Really _think_. What would you say to your younger self? Would you have still chosen the same path if you’d known? Don’t justify it to yourself; actually look at what you’ve done.”

Kallus stood, setting down the bag of shuura fruit he’d brought with him. Lyste had set his half-eaten one on the bench next to them, but Kallus knew their conversation caused the inattention, not dislike of the treat.

“I’ll see you again shortly, Yogar,” Kallus said as a guard let him out.

“How come you never bring us stuff?” the other guard grumped.

One edge of Kallus’s mouth twitched upward. “Because you can get your own. But if you really want something, let me know.”

The guard smiled. “Yeah, let me get you my dream menu. Think you can handle that, Captain?”

Kallus raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re mistaking me for a chef, _Corporal_.”

The guard’s grin didn’t fade. “Mayhap. But I oughtta be charging you some sort of bribe for all the time you spend with _him_.”

“Oh, be fair,” Kallus said drily. “I’m your only entertainment down here and you want more.” He shook his head good-naturedly and headed to the turbolift, using his Rebellion datachip to activate the doors.

He checked his chrono. Still time to meet up for the day’s hunt.

Half an hour later, Kallus was moving with a small group of Rebels through the jungle undergrowth, eyes on the sky. Nearly four months back – a couple of weeks after Zeb – Zaarin had invited him to join a group that hunted for whisper birds and other Yavin 4 wildlife. Purportedly, they were supplementing the Rebel diet, but from what Kallus had seen, it was really a way to show off marksmanship skills.

No one had expected him to be any good, he knew, which made him inordinately smug when it turned out his childhood of hunting hawk-bats and borrats translated well to sniping whisper birds and stintarils as an adult.

‘Translated well’ did not mean translated _best_ , however. Kallus would give that honor to a lakaru named Bistan, who did most of his hunting from the treetops. None of the humans could rival his eyesight and reflexes.

The small group split into two smaller groups, Kallus’s group heading west while the other moved eastward. Kallus let Melshi, a special forces sergeant take point while he and Zaarin held back.

Another couple of hours later, the sun was setting and the group walking home, their meager bounty slung over their shoulders. Kallus carried two stintarils himself, the heavy rodents weighing him down.

The men were all joking and laughing, comparing shots taken and shots missed. Kallus listened quietly until he found himself walking next to Melshi.

“When are you going to quit stealing my commandos?” Kallus asked. In the last month, special forces had recruited heavily from Kallus’s unit, leaving him with a lot of fresh, untrained soldiers.

Melshi grinned. “When you stop training ‘em so well. You do half our work for us.”

Zaarin laughed. “There’s plenty of people to go around, you two. Look at all the groups who are joining us now that we’re an Alliance, not just a Rebellion!”

Kallus had to admit Zaarin was right about that. More sympathetic Imperial Senators had joined – some covertly, some overtly – bringing their homeworld resistance movements with them. At the moment, there were four former Senators, including Mon Mothma, not to mention the Mon Calamari military forces who’d joined up as well.

The Rebellion was still a ragtag group in the face of an overwhelming enemy and Kallus still had his doubts that any of them would survive much longer, but… seeing new, eager Rebels every day _did_ lift his spirits.

Maybe, just maybe they could eke out some victories.

Like on Lothal.

Kallus sighed, wishing there was a way to know how the Lothal mission was going – or if it was even going at all. Had they made it to the surface? Had they found a way to get the information about the TIE-Defender? Could they get off-planet?

As if sensing Kallus’s mood change, Zaarin clapped him on the back. “You’ll get word from Captain Syndulla soon enough, K.”

Kallus started to protest, but realized it was pointless. Zaarin knew how to read him too well after a year of rooming together.

Melshi frowned. “I always thought you didn’t get along with the _Ghost_ crew, K. They never pick your unit even though you’re the best commandos – no offense, Zaarin.”

“None taken!” Zaarin’s words were cheerful but he was watching Kallus closely.

“I have a complicated history with the _Ghost_ crew,” Kallus admitted. “Back when I was still Imperial, I hunted them and then when I defected, they were the ones who saved me. They set me on the path to defect, actually. I owe them a lot and will help them when I can, but day-to-day there’s still a little friction.”

Zaarin fell back a step and Melshi glanced over his shoulder to look at him. Kallus resolutely did not; Zaarin was probably pantomiming some lewd act to elaborate on Kallus’s statement.

Kallus could get angry, but he was used to being talked about behind his back. Imperials and Rebels both talked about his deeds in the ISB and more recently, Zeb.

“Oh!” Melshi said, surprised. “That was you?”

Kallus breathed deeply. He’d been right about Zaarin. “That was me,” he confirmed. “But it’s all over.”

“Eh,” said Melshi. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still a damned good commando leader and I plan to keep stealing as many of your guys as I can.”

“Leave me with _some_ people, will you?” Kallus said, a half-grin on his face.

“Once I’ve had my fill,” Melshi said good-naturedly. “Maybe I’ll steal you next.”

“You can’t steal me; I outrank you.”

“Just watch me.”

Kallus laughed, a real, true laugh.

He’d been doing that more often. Used to be, only Zeb could elicit such a laugh from him, but now… now there were others who claimed Kallus as a friend.

And wasn’t that a strange thing, to have _friends_?

Kallus and Rex had only been back a few days when he received a summons to the war room in the main temple.

Assuming it was another commando mission, Kallus made his way there as soon as he could. The room was crowded when he got there: Alliance leaders and pilots.

Lots of pilots.

Merrick and Dreis, the two senior pilots, stood at the table. And next to them stood–

Hera Syndulla.

Kallus’s heart leapt. She didn’t appear to be upset, just determined, which probably meant that the Spectres were all alive and relatively healthy.

Hera waved him over. “I’m going to need you in the _Ghost_ again!” she said, loudly enough to be heard over the din.

“Of course!” Kallus nodded.

The life-size hologram of Senator Organa raised his hand, and the room slowly fell silent. “Our mission to Lothal has brought back dire news: the new TIE design is more dangerous than ever and General Syndulla has proposed an attack on the factory to prevent any more from being made.”

Kallus looked at Hera, impressed. _General? When did that happen?_

Hera leaned forward on the table, the ends of her lekku twitching impatiently. “I won’t lie, the blockade is difficult. If we can get a Y-wing squadron through, though, they can take out the factory. I’ll need X-wings to get through. The B-wing if we can.”

One of the X-wing squadron leaders raised his hand. “Phoenix is always with you, Hera.”

The twi’lek nodded. “Thank you. Is there a Y-wing squadron willing to take this mission?”

“Talon will,” said a female in the back of the room.

“Anyone else?”

Silence.

Hera pounded her fist on the table lightly. “All right, two squadrons it is. Do we have the B-wing?”

“I’m sorry, general,” said Merrick. “Quarrie hasn’t brought it back from the factory yet.”

Nodding, Hera frowned. “No B-wing then. Phoenix and Talon, I want you prepared to leave first thing in the morning. Get a good night’s sleep and then tomorrow we head to Lothal and fight.”

Kallus stayed still, waiting for the crowd to thin. “You’re risking the _Ghost_ against the entire Seventh Fleet?” It wouldn’t be the first time Hera faced a blockade, but it would be the first time Kallus was in a gunner’s seat as she did.

“No,” she said. “I’m going to fly as Phoenix Lead. I need you and Rex and the _Ghost_ in reserve to come get us after we destroy the factory.”

 _If there’s anyone left to get_ , Kallus thought. “Of course,” he said instead. “How has it gone so far?”

Hera smiled wearily. “Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you.”

“Fair enough,” Kallus said.

He and Hera went to the tapcafe and got a couple drinks to go, taking them back to the _Ghost._ Hera seemed to relax the second she stepped into the hold of her ship.

“So, general?” Kallus asked, taking a seat at the dejarik table.

Hera cracked open one of her cans and took a drink before answering. “They sprung that on me right before the meeting. Become a general and they’d let me take volunteers or stay a captain and get no one.”

Kallus wrinkled his nose. “ISB used to try and blackmail me like that as well,” he said.

“Well, it worked,” Hera said. “We _need_ to destroy that factory or the Empire will destroy us. That prototype was faster, more maneuverable, and more heavily armed than the original TIE-Defenders _plus_ it has shields.”

“Sounds bad,” Rex said, wandering in. Kallus wondered if he’d been in the ship all along or if he’d followed them.

Kallus waited a moment before asking the question he truly wanted answered: “And your crew?”

“Everyone was fine when I left,” Hera said. “They were going to try and find a transmitter that would reach past the Imperial jamming, so I hope to hear from them by morning.”

Kallus could breathe again. _Everyone was fine. Garazeb is fine. Everyone is alive and safe for the time being._

_Now to keep them that way._

It seemed like half the base was there to see off Phoenix and Talon squadrons. Kallus stood on the _Ghost_ ’s ramp with Rex, arms crossed, watching the commotion in the main hangar.

A small group broke off and headed toward the _Ghost_.

“Who’s that?” Rex asked, peering at their arriving visitors.

“Ah,” Kallus said. “My roommates.”

Coryn led the way, stopping at the bottom of the ramp and mirroring Kallus’s pose. “So you’re going on this fool mission, too?”

Kallus relaxed. “I am,” he said. “Someone has to get everyone off Lothal after they destroy the factory.”

Rex grunted and Kallus knew what he was thinking. _If. If they destroy it. If they survive._

“Where’s Jaci?” Kallus asked. “You guys are usually inseparable.”

“Saying goodbye to Maks,” Otto said. “He’s in Phoenix, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Kallus almost turned to Rex and explained who Jaci and Maks were but recalled at the last second that the three had all been on Atollon together. Rex most certainly already knew.

As if he knew Kallus was thinking about him, Rex clapped Kallus on the back. “I’ll be getting her ready to go up. Join me in the cockpit when you’re ready.”

Kallus’s roommates waited for Rex to make his way into the ship before coming up the ramp, closer to Kallus.

“Tell us the truth,” Zaarin said.

“What are the odds?” asked Coryn.

Kallus shook his head. “Thought you were Corellian, Coryn. You’re not supposed to care about the odds.”

“Yeah, well,” Coryn said. “I care when friends are involved and this mission’ll affect both you and Jaci.”

Crossing his arms again, Kallus sighed. “It’s not going to be pretty. From what Hera said, the entire Seventh Fleet is at Lothal. Those two squadrons have to punch through a screen of TIEs and turbolasers just to get to the factory.”

“And you?” asked Otto.

“We’re the pickup team,” Kallus explained, gesturing back into the ship. “We’ve got to sneak in after the factory is destroyed, when Thrawn is on high alert.”

“Stang.” Otto’s shoulders slumped. 

Zaarin rolled his eyes. “‘Stang’? Could you _be_ any more stereotypical Alderaanian?”

Coryn shot Zaarin a glare and Zaarin held his hands up in surrender. “So basically, there’s no hope?” Coryn asked sadly.

Kallus bit his lip. “Well, having faced Hera Syndulla and the Spectres as opponents, I can confidently say that if anyone can pull this off, it’ll be them.”

Hera hadn’t been as confident the night before. She’d barely made it out, she explained, and she was afraid she would be leading the two squadrons to slaughter.

Kallus had been unable to reassure her except to agree that they had to try.

Otto shuffled his feet awkwardly. “If you think one more X-wing’ll help, I’ll go AWOL and join you.”

“You don’t need to do that, Otto,” Kallus said. “Best stay here in case they need Green Squadron for something.” _The leadership is right. We can’t spare more than the two squadrons. We’re already underdefended if the Empire finds us now._

Coryn reached forward and shook Kallus’s hand, clasping it in both of his. “Bring ‘em back, you hear?”

“I’ll do my best,” Kallus promised.

Zaarin waited to catch Kallus’s eye and nodded.

Kallus nodded back. He understood.

“Kallus! Time to get going!” called Rex from inside the ship.

“That’s our cue to leave,” Zaarin said. “Take care, K.”

Kallus waited until they were halfway across the landing field before closing up the ramp.

He climbed up the ladders that took him to the cockpit, settling into the copilot’s seat as Rex turned on the repulsorlifts and got them airborne.

“Ready to go sit and wait?” Rex asked.

Kallus didn’t answer for a moment. They would be one hyperspace jump away from Lothal, close enough for a rescue, but also close enough to be caught – and that order to bring him to Vader alive still stood. Sitting and waiting was fraught with danger, but it needed to be done. The _Ghost_ might be the only way to get the Spectres out safely.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Let’s go.”

“Good,” said Rex happily. “Hope you brought a lot of credits because I plan on killing you in sabacc.”

Kallus smiled grimly. “Keep telling yourself that,” he said. “You’ve yet to win against me on any other mission.”

“Yeah,” Rex allowed. “But you haven’t been on a mission in months. Who’s to say I didn’t get better?”

Gesturing out the viewport at the starfighters joining them above Yavin IV, Kallus said, “Get us to the rendezvous point and we’ll see if you’ve improved enough.”

Rex snorted. “Sir, yes sir.”

Three days later, sabacc was no longer entertaining. Kallus spent much of his time lounging in Zeb’s bunk, reading a holonovel he’d stolen from Zaarin, and wondering if they’d ever actually hear from the Spectres again – and when they should give up waiting and presume them dead.

“Kallus!” Rex’s voice echoed through the ship.

Kallus nearly bumped his head on the bottom of Ezra’s bunk as he sat up. “What is it?” he called back.

“Come here, there’s a broadcast!”

A broadcast? It wasn’t time for the usual Imperial News broadcast; something must have happened.

He stood in the door to the common area and watched the holo with growing horror.

A parade the next day on Lothal to celebrate victory against the Rebels.

Kanan Jarrus was mentioned specifically.

“Karabast,” said Kallus, stunned.

“Do you think that means they have him captured?” Rex asked hopefully.

Kallus shook his head. “No, even an ambitious governor like Pryce wouldn’t boast about a mere imprisonment. The sort of victory they’re claiming means…”

“Means he’s dead.” Rex covered his face with his hands for a few moments.

“They didn’t mention the others. They must still be alive,” Kallus pointed out, trying to ignore the hollow ache in his chest when he thought of Kanan dying. The Jedi had reached out to him, been kind even at Atollon. 

The galaxy was poorer for his loss. 

“Hera,” said Rex. “Ezra. All of ‘em have gotta be hurting.”

“Yes,” Kallus agreed. “But they’re fighters, too. They won’t let this stop them.”

After the broadcast was over and no more names had been mentioned – _no Garazeb Orrelios, the vicious lasat_ – Kallus returned back to Zeb’s cabin. He lay there, late into the night, thinking of what sort of man Kanan Jarrus had been and what he might have been if the Empire had never been established, if the Jedi Order hadn’t been destroyed.

He also thought of the cheers of his academy’s cadets when they heard the Jedi had fallen and how he had participated.

Yet another addition to his ever-growing list of regrets.

That night, they received a binary transmission from Lothal: Chopper.

Kallus listened as Chopper outlined a plan – one that required Hera to steal an Imperial ship during the parade and slip unnoticed out of the system.

Rex and Kallus both went through the ship, preparing the _Ghost_ for battle again – whether they jumped to Lothal or Hera brought the Empire with her, they would likely be in a fight soon – and in Kallus’s case, trying to erase every hint he was there.

Picking up a stack of datacards he’d accidentally knocked over, Kallus opened the first drawer – the one under Zeb’s pillow. He started to throw the datacards in there, but stopped.

The drawer contained only two things: a small leather satchel and a medallion of some sort, face down.

Kallus got the feeling he was trespassing, somehow, but he had an inkling of what that medallion might be and he wanted to see if he was right.

Carefully, he turned it over.

He’d been right; it was a Lasan High Honor Guard medallion, etched with crossed bo-rifles and flowers. Kallus had seen them before, when he fought for the Empire on Lasan.

When he killed the guardsman who gave him his bo-rifle.

Kallus flipped the medallion back over and shut the drawer. Except for that one night, the anniversary of Lasan, Zeb never talked much about his life before joining the Spectres.

 _I wonder if I’ll ever be worthy to hear about it?_ Kallus wondered.

He was still there, kneeling by the bed, thinking, when another ship hailed the _Ghost._

Kallus and Rex both scrambled to the cockpit. The scanner showed an antiquated _Theta_ -class shuttle approaching. 

“Codes check out,” Rex said. “It’s Hera.”

Kallus had to smile. _Theta_ s were usually used by politicians traveling to and from Coruscant; it was highly likely Hera had absconded with Governor Pryce’s personal shuttle.

The two ships docked and Hera stalked onto the _Ghost_ , face set in a determined rictus.

“Hera,” Rex said. “We saw the broadcast. Are you–?”

“No, I’m not,” Hera said, waving him off. “But the factory is offline for a long time. If we want to strike, we strike now. We need allies.”

“Strike?” Kallus asked, though he could see where Hera was headed.

“Get the Imperials off Lothal for good,” she said. “Ezra’s in charge back on the planet; the three of us have to work quickly.”

Kallus and Rex got to work, locating the Spectres’ erstwhile allies across the galaxy while Hera argued with Rebel command, begging uselessly for more support.

They wouldn’t send support, Kallus knew. They were told to report back to Yavin IV instead, with as many of the surviving Rebels as possible.

“Kriff that,” Hera muttered, shutting off the transmission. “Who’ve you got, guys?”

“Well, there’s always Gregor and Wollfe,” Rex said.

“I’ve located Ketsu Onyo,” said Kallus. “She’s out near Mon Cala with General Cracken.”

“Good,” Hera said. “Ketsu can find Hondo for us.”

“Hondo Ohnaka?” Kallus quirked an eyebrow. “The smuggler?”

“Pirate,” Hera corrected. “And he has a soft spot for Ezra. He’ll help.”

Kallus shook his head. “Cikatro Vizago, Hondo Ohnaka… next you’ll tell me we’re recruiting a Hutt.”

“No, but there are a few more people I’ll put the signal out to. More smugglers who’ve helped the Rebellion before.” Hera leaned against the table, looking exhausted.

“Hey,” Rex said. “You need sleep. Kallus and I will talk to these people. Go rest.”

“No!” Hera pushed herself back up. “We get this done, _then_ I’ll sleep.”

Kallus heard the unspoken furious ‘ _maybe’_.

Grief was a funny thing, Kallus thought. Rather than argue, he pulled up Onyo’s comm codes. “Whenever you’re ready, Hera,” he said.

Even counting the people on the surface of Lothal, their attack force was meager. They would need to sneak in quietly and strike precisely. They would need the Force on their side.

Kallus said a quick prayer to the Ashla for help – and for patience.

It’d been less than a day since they picked up their allies on Seelos, but already Kallus was remembering why he’d thrown Hondo Ohnaka in prison two years before. The weequay was on every last one of Kallus’s nerves.

Especially when he turned out to be right about the shipping lane gambit.

Kallus felt the ship jolt as the magnetic clamps attached to a shipping container.

All they had to do was wait for the cargo freighter to make it through the blockade – and hope Thrawn hadn’t ordered visual inspections – and then make it to Ezra.

They’d received transmissions from Chopper. They knew Ezra and the others – _Zeb_ – were already in battle with Imperial forces and needed backup.

What they didn’t know was if they’d make it in time.

Every second seemed like an eternity as the freighter slowly made its way towards Lothal. Kallus gripped his fists tight, stretching the leather of his gloves, ready to grab the controls if they needed to make a quick escape.

Just as they broke into atmosphere, Hera powered up the _Ghost_ , pulling away from the freighter and flying out across what remained of the plains. They were low enough not to be detected by the fleet and the ship’s stealth equipment would keep the Lothal spaceport controllers from noticing them either.

“Rex, Gregor, Wollfe, Kallus, I want you in the hold ready to jump and assist the others. Hondo, you and Melch man the turrets,” Hera instructed.

Kallus checked his blaster and power packs, instinctively reaching for his bo-rifle on his back before remembering he’d lost it for good.

_You can’t get it back, Alexsandr. Focus on what you do have and can do._

The ship rocked as atmosphere buffeted the hull, leaving Kallus and the others in the hold to grab onto the bulkheads to stay upright. Finally the ship slowed and steadied.

“Ready, boys?” Hera’s voice came over the intercom.

Kallus braced himself.

The ramp opened and he ran out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with events from episodes 4-11 DUME through 4-14 A Fool’s Hope.

Zeb had seen the ravages of war. He knew loss intimately. Over the years, he’d lost comrades, friends, and family until all he had left were the Spectres. A family in all but name, he loved them each dearly and would willingly die for any one of them.

He hadn’t expected _Kanan_ to die for them, however. Not when Kanan had Hera to love and Ezra to train.

That wasn’t how any of it was supposed to work.

But that was what happened.

Over the years, Zeb had taught himself to deal with grief and for the sake of Hera and the kids, he was determined not to let his own show, determined to be the strong one for them.

But… hadn’t he lost enough already? Shouldn’t the Ashla be cutting him some slack? After everything, wasn’t it time for something _good_ to happen?

Not yet, it seemed. Zeb handed Sabine the macrobinoculars and stood. That baby rancor _thing_ was headed their direction and they had to think of something quickly.

He’d panicked a bit when he realized the thing could see them from a distance, but he’d recovered. And if he’d exaggerated his reaction to keep Sabine’s mood lighter, well, no one had to be the wiser.

Sometimes, it helped to play into the stereotype that he was nothing but the Spectre’s dumb, brutish muscle.

He wasn’t playacting at the moment, however. They needed a plan – something that would keep the alien from tracking their speeders back to camp.

Together, he and Sabine concocted a trap for the alien, one that would let them even the score a little.

Zeb cracked his knuckles as he waited in the dark. He knew his coloration made him difficult for most species to see in dim light, but there was no telling what this creature’s night vision was like. He drew his bo-rifle, extending but not lighting the ends, and stood ready.

The alien hit like a duracrete wall when he showed up, fighting with hands and feet and head and staff – Zeb hadn’t fought like that since he last trained with other lasat. It took him a bit to get his feet, but he did.

And then the alien changed the game, turning on a personal cloaking device.

Even with that, Zeb managed to gain the upper hand, so that when Sabine dusted the alien with paint, it was nothing for Zeb to pick him up, slam him against the nearest rock and start whaling on him.

 _Take something from the Empire,_ Zeb thought. _Take this alien out of the equation and we’ll all be better off._

 _“This! Is! For! Kanan!”_ he yelled, punctuating each word with a furious blow to the alien’s head. With every punch, he felt anger swell inside him. Anger, but also resentment, despair, loss, grief, rage. The Empire owed Zeb for many many things over the years and he was happy to start reclaiming his own by killing this creature.

Sabine wouldn’t let him, however, getting between Zeb and the unconscious alien just as he was about to deliver a crushing final blow to the alien’s head.

 _She’s right,_ Zeb realized, stumbling back from the alien. _We have to be better than that. We can’t stoop to their level. I was willing to do **exactly** what we got onto Kal for doing._

It took Zeb a few minutes to calm down, but in that time Sabine had furiously graffitied the alien, painting little phoenixes and Rebel Alliance starbirds as well as some meticulously picked color swaths.

It was good Sabine was an artist. Zeb probably would have just painted something vulgar and obscene on the alien.

Zeb kicked off the alien’s speeder, Sabine chattering about sending a message to the Empire. Her incessant questions and comments might have bugged Zeb at another time, but he recognized them as a way to distract from Kanan’s loss.

“Hey, you set the homing beacon, right?” Sabine asked, eying him suspiciously. 

“Yeah.” Zeb shrugged, thinking back. Had he? He’d been calming down himself while he prepped the speeder. “Well, I think I did.”

“Zeb!” Sabine fussed.

“No, I did,” he argued as they turned to go. “I did!”

“Unbelievable.” Sabine climbed on her speeder. “Come on, we’ve got to tell Ezra and Hera what we learned.”

Zeb grumbled good-naturedly as he climbed on his own speeder. _The Empire has shut down their factories. They killed their own production when they killed Kanan. There’s still hope._

_And we need that desperately._

“Save the Jedi Temple,” Ezra said.

“The wolves will take us there,” Ezra said.

“Don’t worry,” Ezra said.

Well, Zeb was worried. He wasn’t too keen on animals larger than himself in the first place, but then to ask him to _ride_ one of these massive Loth-wolves?

Lasat didn’t ride. It wasn’t part of life on Lasan. Maybe at some point in their ancestral history, in the days before space travel, lasat had ridden some domesticated animal, but that was part of the problem – _domesticated_.

These wolves were anything but.

“Come on, Zeb,” said Sabine encouragingly. She sat on top of a dark gray wolf as if she belonged there. Hera and Ezra also looked at home on their mounts.

There was nothing for it, then. Zeb couldn’t let the three of them go alone, especially knowing that alien was still out there. He climbed aboard the great gray wolf, gripping its fur tightly with his hands and feet both.

At first, Zeb thought he’d close his eyes and it wouldn’t be as nerve-wracking.

He was wrong. It nearly made him motion-sick.

Zeb watched, wide-eyed and slightly terrified as the wolves loped through the grasses.

“How far is it to the Temple?” he asked Sabine.

“You don’t wanna know!” she called back.

Zeb gulped.

The grass suddenly got higher around them and the wolves ran impossibly lower, down into the ground, never slowing up.

Just as Zeb thought he was about to hit the ground, something snapped in his mind and he slumped forward, unconscious on the back of the Loth-wolf.

Kriffing Loth-wolves.

Zeb paced along the top of the pit, unseen behind the floodlights, eyes never leaving the two white-clad figures studying the temple.

“Stop,” Hera said, reaching out to grab at his jumpsuit and pull him down. “You’re making me nervous.”

“We don’t know who that man is down there and I don’t like it,” Zeb replied.

“You’re the one who told me to remember why we came.” Hera still looked sad and concerned.

Zeb crouched next to her. “Doesn’t mean I’m not still worried.”

“Ezra’s doing something,” Hera said. “There, at that painting or whatever it is.”

“And Sabine’s about to be in trouble.” Zeb pointed down.

Hera watched through the macrobinoculars while Zeb did his best to keep track of what was going on without them.

“Sabine is going with the troopers,” Hera said.

Zeb looked at Hera. “Have they found her out?” _Do we need to extract the kids?_

“I don’t think so,” Hera said, lowering the macrobinoculars. 

Zeb nodded. “What about Ezra?”

Hera looked again. “I can’t tell,” she said, shaking her head. “He went into the shadows, but I think…”

“What?”

“I think the paintings moved?” Hera didn’t sound sure of what she saw at all.

Zeb snagged the macrobinoculars and looked for himself. Paintings, move. What a load of–

 _The painting moved_.

The golden Loth-wolves slowly ran around to the side of the rock. Zeb could make out Ezra following them.

“Well, kriff me,” Zeb said. “You were right.”

Suddenly, an alarm klaxon blared. Troopers grabbed Sabine.

“Gotta move,” Hera said, rolling back and behind a large rock. Zeb and Chopper followed as quickly as they could.

They sat there, frozen, while searchlights traced the outer edges of the gigantic pit. Zeb glanced at Hera, to see if she was okay, and caught her grasping at her shoulder.

She’d done that a few times in the last little bit. It wasn’t a usual stress response from her, so Zeb had noticed.

“Hera,” he said, low and quiet. “You know Kanan–”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t talk to me about him.”

“We gotta talk sometime,” Zeb said.

Hera squeezed her hands into fists and her lekku twitched. “No, we don’t,” she said firmly.

Zeb dared to reach out and cover one of her fists with his hand. “Yes, you do.” He squeezed her hand tightly and she didn’t try to pull away. “Kanan was family to me. He was more than that to you. But our family’s still here, Hera. You ‘n me ‘n Chopper ‘n Sabine ‘n Ezra.”

“I _know_ that,” she grumbled, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’m not falling apart, Zeb.”

“You aren’t now,” he said. “But it’ll hit. It always does. And you need to remember we’re here.”

“Assuming we get out of here,” Hera pointed out.

Zeb could tell she wanted to argue, to say that Zeb didn’t know how she felt. He could also tell she knew it would be wrong.

He’d lost everyone, once upon a time. Lovers, friends, soldiers, parents, siblings, a niece and nephew: _everyone._ If anyone would know how losing loved ones hit, it was Garazeb Orrelios and Hera knew it.

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll talk. After we leave Lothal.”

“When the mission is over,” Zeb amended.

“When the mission is over,” she agreed. “But until then, do _not_ say his name, Zeb, not if you want to help me. Right now, we need to get down there and help Sabine and Ezra if we can.”

Watching the painting move from up close had been an experience, Zeb thought, but so was seeing the pit completely disappear.

Flat ground surrounded them, no sign of rubble except a few small rocks.

He’d half-hoped Ezra could explain it, but the Jedi – because with no master, he was a Jedi now, wasn’t he? – couldn’t.

They’d waited there until sunrise, until Ezra woke, then drove the excavation driller Chopper stole back to the camp. It took most of the day, but they made it.

Along the way, they plotted. They needed allies. They needed fresh fighters.

They needed to get in touch with Rex and Kallus, supposedly still waiting on them, floating in open space.

Maybe they hadn’t been caught. Maybe they hadn’t given up. Maybe they were still there.

“I’ll go,” said Hera. “And I’ll gather our allies. Anyone we’ve ever worked with. I’ll check again with Rebel Command. I will do _everything_ I can to bring down Imperial rule of Lothal.”

From the durasteel in her voice, Zeb had no doubts she would.

When they arrived back at camp, they all went straight to the Mining Guild crawler.

Sabine turned on the crawler’s comm unit. “All right, Chop, you’ve got the best chance of getting through to Rex and Kallus.”

Chopper rolled up, tootling and waving his manipulators. He plugged into the comm unit and started talking.

As usual, Zeb could _almost_ understand him, as if his Binary were nothing more than garbled Basic, but most of what Chopper said went over his head. Kallus and Rex both spoke Binary, though, so Chopper’s message would make sense if it got through.

Zeb rubbed the back of his head. “You sure about the ships, Sabine?”

“Yeah,” she said. “While you were looking at the factories last night, I noticed that their vehicle pool was understaffed.”

“That was during the parade,” Ezra pointed out. “They’ll be back to work now, right?”

“No,” said Hera. “They can’t afford for Lothal to know the plant is disabled. Their focus is going to be on keeping the populace from asking questions. I still think Sabine’s plan is best.”

Zeb nodded. He trusted Sabine’s tactical senses, but he had to double-check.

“All right,” he said, crossing his arms. “Soon as the rust bucket’s through, we’ll get you a ship.”

Hera placed a hand on Zeb’s arm and spoke softly. “Whatever happens, _be careful_. Take care of–”

“–of the kids, I know,” Zeb replied, equally quietly. “Hera, _you’re_ the one who needs to be careful. Come back to us.”

“I will,” Hera said. “I’m not foolhardy, Zeb.”

He smiled at her. “I know you’re not. Gotta say something anyway.”

Chopper rolled back from the data port, chittering. 

“They got the plan,” Ezra said. “Good, now let’s go.”

Out by the speeder bikes, the rest of their little group of Rebels waited.

“Be careful,” Ryder said.

Chopper warbled, sounding like he was echoing the sentiment.

Hera nodded. “We will.”

Mart and Jai both pulled up speeders, handing them over to Zeb and Hera. Ezra and Sabine climbed onto the back of the bikes.

Once Zeb was certain Ezra was holding on, he took off across the plains.

_Now this – **this** – is how you travel. Not on those bloody Loth-wolves._

_Can’t wait to tell Kal about that._

_Wait, Kal and I aren’t talking, are we?_

_…are we?_

It was a long trip to Capital City, nearly two and a half hours even on full acceleration, and it was middle of the night when they arrived. Pushing Kallus from his mind, Zeb focused on the mission at hand.

Zeb braked the speeder, turning it as it stopped so both he and Ezra could see the vehicle pool.

Sabine looked through the macrobinoculars. “You were right, Hera, they’re still understaffed. I only see four stormtroopers. Zeb could take ‘em all out for you.”

“All right, I can do that,” Zeb said, clapping one hand over the other fist.

Hera held up her hand. “Ezra, Sabine, stay up here and let us know if something changes. Zeb, you’re coming with me.”

For a moment, Zeb thought she was going to take him on the ship with her – _to Kallus_ – but then who would watch Ezra and Sabine? 

No, he realized. She just needed him to bash some stormtrooper helmets in.

“Got it,” he said.

Leaving the speeders behind, Zeb and Hera walked the last quarter kilometer, crouching in the tall Lothal grasses when necessary. Reaching the edges of the landing pad, he and Hera split. Zeb ran to the front, moving almost silently, and crept up behind one of the four troopers.

Then came his favorite part: punching the trooper so hard they went dizzy if not fully unconscious. 

Really, the Empire ought to make their helmets better. Sturdier. Harder to pull off and use to attack other troopers with.

He moved quickly, taking out three stormtroopers before the fourth noticed him. Discarding stealth, he roared and ran at the trooper, hoping to have him focused on running and hiding and fighting, not alerting backup.

With a great leap forward, Zeb tackled the trooper, knocking their helmet off too – couldn’t have any of them sending messages after they woke up, either.

A hydraulic hiss sounded and Zeb looked up. The ramp for a transport raised. A glance at the cockpit window showed Hera sitting in the pilot’s seat. She waved.

Zeb waved back, then kicked the trooper at his feet once more for good measure.

The ship started, rising on its repulsors, and Zeb scrambled to get out of the vehicle pool, out of the light.

He ran, low and swift, back to the kids. Behind him, he heard the tell-tale whine of TIE fighter engines, but it didn’t sound like a lot of them had launched.

Collapsing on the ground after running full-tilt, Zeb looked up where Sabine pointed. Two TIEs pursued Hera, but they seemed to be trying to crowd her down instead of shooting her.

“That’s a _Theta_ ,” Sabine said. “Bet that’s Pryce’s ship and they’re under orders not to damage it.”

“Really?” Ezra sounded thrilled. “Wonder if Hera knew that when she took it.”

Zeb reached up and thumped the back of Ezra’s head. “You bet she did, kid. Now let’s get out of here before they send out the Corellian hounds.”

Hera was no longer visible in the heavy clouds that covered Lothal, but Zeb said a quick prayer to the Ashla that she made it out.

He couldn’t stand losing anyone else.

When Ezra’s wrist comm beeped, Zeb couldn’t help but grin.

Backup was there.

The _Ghost_ swooped into view and Zeb took advantage of the distraction to dive out of the way and grab his bo-rifle again.

After a first volley of lasers from the ship itself, the ramp opened and four men jumped out: three clones and one Coruscanti.

Zeb knew he was beaming by that point, watching Kallus expertly take in, assess, and attack the situation in moments.

 _Kal’s got this_ , he thought.

He took cover with the others behind some crates, shooting at some troopers off to the left. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the clones take cover on the other end of the crates, but Kallus…

Kallus kept moving until he was behind Zeb and added to Zeb’s suppressing fire.

Zeb wouldn’t admit it, but he felt better having Kallus at his back. _At least I do now. There was a time that would’ve been the dumbest thing I could do._

Fighting with Kallus just seemed _right_ in a way that little else had since they got to Lothal.

“Fall back to the caves!” Ezra yelled.

Everyone dashed to the cave entrance, Ezra bringing up the rear. 

“Don’t mind the wolves!” Zeb called to Kallus, hoping to be heard over the blaster fire.

“The what?” asked Kallus.

“Nevermind! Just follow Sabine!”

That wasn’t how he’d imagined his first conversation with Kallus would begin. He hadn’t had time to record anything new since Kanan’s death, or to even dwell much on Kallus, but it didn’t change his decisions.

In the middle of a battle was _not_ the place to start a discussion, though, so Zeb kept his mouth shut, guiding Kallus into the caves using the lightest of touches on his back so that the human didn’t need a glowrod.

They stood in the dark, arm’s length from the giant Loth-wolves and Zeb could smell the fear rolling off Kallus and the clones.

“They’re on our side,” Zeb said, just loud enough to be heard. “We think.”

“You _think_?” Zeb could _hear_ Kallus’s eye roll.

The gray alien walked into the caves. “Where is your army now, Jedi?” he asked, voice gravelly and low.

Ezra said nothing, but lit his lightsaber. In the dark, Zeb knew the Loth-wolves’ eyes would glow.

What a sight that would be. Zeb was glad he wasn’t the Loth-wolves’ enemy.

After letting the wolves attack the stormtroopers and Pryce for a minute, Ezra led the charge back out of the cave. For just a second, everyone stopped to take in the carnage.

 _Not bloody carnage, but chaos for sure_ , Zeb amended. The wolves were wreaking havoc on the troopers and Pryce was crawling around terrified.

Gesturing for Kallus to follow him, Zeb circled around the side, hemming the troopers in.

Not two minutes later, the battle was over. The troopers were surrounded.

“I’d drop your weapons if I were you,” Zeb said loudly.

The remaining troopers followed orders quite well.

Ryder stepped up between Zeb and Kallus as the white wolf brought Pryce forward.

Zeb supposed he should’ve listened to what Ryder had to say, but he caught Kallus looking at him and Zeb couldn’t help but look at Kallus.

It hadn’t been long. A week, maybe – Zeb’s days were all messed up – but it felt like a lifetime. A whole lifetime since Kallus said he knew the lasat customs. Since Kallus said he wished he’d known them earlier.

Since Kanan encouraged Zeb to try again with Kallus.

And from the look in Kallus’s eyes, it’d been just as long for him.

“Zeb, help me take care of the governor,” Ryder said.

Tearing his gaze from Kallus’s face, Zeb grabbed one of Pryce’s arms.

“Unhand me, you beast,” she snarled. 

Zeb laughed. “I’m on my best behavior,” he joked. “But if you wanna see a beast…?”

Pryce wisely kept her mouth shut.

Soon, all the prisoners were bound and put in the cave under Loth-wolf guard just in time for Hera to land. Just in time for Ezra to point out the fight wasn’t over.

Zeb tried to catch Kallus’s eye again, but the human was looking at Hera.

Yeah, Kallus was right. Zeb needed to check on her first.

The small group of rebels dispersed, leaving the Spectres alone. They stood there until Zeb said, “Enough of this,” and gathered the other three into a hug.

“You made it,” Ezra said, a little muffled. “You made it out of Lothal and back.”

“It wasn’t easy.” Hera pulled back from the hug. “I was more worried about you guys.”

“We had it, didn’t we, Zeb?” asked Sabine, bumping her shoulder against Zeb’s arm. “Between us and the Loth-wolves, we can take on the whole Empire.”

“Good,” said Ezra. “We need to.”

“What’s your plan, kid?” Zeb asked.

Ezra shook his head. “I’m still deciding, but we have to take out the Imperial Complex.”

“Those things have self-destructs built into them,” Sabine said.

“We can’t detonate it there,” Hera pointed out. “The rest of the city…”

“Yeah,” Zeb agreed. “So what’s the alternative?”

“They fly, don’t they?” Ezra asked. “Get it off the ground, enable the city’s shield, and then blow it up.”

Hera’s face darkened. “Only if Governor Pryce is in there. She’s the one who ordered the fuel depot destroyed.”

“Hera…” Ezra warned.

Hera shook her head. “I don’t mean it, not really,” she said. “But I want to mean it.”

Zeb understood, probably better than anyone else there.

Ezra looked at each of them in turn. “I know you guys have my back,” he said. “I’m glad for that.”

“Do you want help planning?” Sabine asked, pulling out a holoprojector. “I downloaded the Complex schematics while I was on the Imperial network the other day.”

“C’mon,” Ezra said, gesturing for Sabine to follow him.

Hera and Zeb exchanged glances. “They’re all grown up,” Zeb said. “They’re kids, but they’re all grown up.”

“That happened to all of us, Zeb,” Hera pointed out. “We all had to grow up too quickly.”

“Yeah, but–” Zeb sighed “–I’d hoped they wouldn’t have to.”

“We’re in a war. Of course they had to,” Hera said sadly.

 _We’ve been at war their entire lives,_ Zeb thought. _Sabine was born during the Clone Wars, Ezra on Empire Day. This war is taking generations. These two’ve never known anything else._

_I hope they get to know peace someday._

Hera bumped Zeb’s shoulder. “Kallus is watching you. Are you up to talking to him?”

Zeb did his best not to glance over and see if Hera was right. “I am,” he said. “That was one of the last things I talked about with– one of the last things I talked about.”

“Go,” Hera said. “Don’t wait too late to say it all. Not like me.”

That had to weigh on her. Neither she nor Kanan had been demonstrative when it came to their love, but Zeb knew Kanan was freer with the ‘I love you’s and the affection in private. Hera held herself too closely to say it out loud, but she showed her love with every action she ever took.

Zeb didn’t know if he was like either Hera or Kanan or if he was something else entirely. It’d been too long since he loved freely.

Maybe, just maybe, Kallus would give him the chance to find out.

Walking up to Kallus, Zeb brushed his arm and led him off to a spot just out of sight. “Kal–”

“No,” Kallus said forcefully. “Last time I let you go first, you tore my heart out. I understand you might do it again, but I _will_ have my say this time, you hear me?”

Zeb nodded, brows lifted.

“I told you I looked things up. I told you I wish I’d done that earlier. But right now I’m telling you this.” Kallus hesitated a second before grabbing Zeb’s head and pulling him down for a solid kiss on the cheek. He pulled back, face set seriously, but the skin around his eyes crinkled in concern.

Zeb felt his ears flick involuntarily; he was too busy processing things to think about controlling them and hiding his excitement. _A kiss? He wants this? He wants to court? No, not after the way I treated him…_

Kallus let go of Zeb and pulled his arms back, wrapping them around his torso tightly. “All right, Garazeb. Tell me that’s never what you wanted. You don’t have to let me down easily.”

“Kal, I–”

“Zeb!”

Growling a little, Zeb called over his shoulder. “In a minute, Ezra!”

“ _Now_ , Zeb!” Ezra walked up behind Zeb.

Trapped between Kallus and Ezra, Zeb knew he couldn’t do something as intimate as returning Kallus’s kiss with Ezra present. “Kal, this isn’t over,” he said quickly. “I–”

Ezra stuck his head around Zeb. “Kallus, I need you and Ryder to bring Pryce to me. Zeb, come on, we have to plan.”

In the second between Ezra stepping away and Ezra dragging Zeb off with him, Zeb managed to reach out and cup Kallus’s cheek. “We’ll talk in private,” he promised.

Worry still in his eyes, Kallus nodded. “I’ll wait. I can always wait.”

 _You shouldn’t have to wait for me. Karabast, the bloody timing of all this. I should blow off Ezra and go back to Kallus,_ Zeb thought as he was led to Ezra’s little planning circle.

“Soon,” he muttered. 

He’d been propositioned, as a lasat, by one of the men who’d helped destroy Lasan. By someone who’d saved his life multiple times. By someone who’d become a true Rebel at heart, not just in name.

By someone Zeb loved.

Kriffing _yes_ , he was going to return that kiss.

He just had to find the right time to do it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with events from episode 4-15 Family Reunion and Farewell.
> 
> I used more of Anath_Tsurugi’s Lasana in this chapter: saman’aki means “little sister”

Pulling on the slightly too-small Imperial aide’s uniform, Kallus closed his eyes. 

It was a costume, nothing more. He knew that. He’d agreed to wear it.

But he could hardly breathe, it felt so confining. He’d been spoiled by loose clothes, fingerless gloves, and a hearty Rebel diet.

The thing was, Kallus wasn’t Imperial any longer. He didn’t fit in the clothes, in the posture, in the parlance anymore. He was someone brand new, someone his old self wouldn’t recognize.

“ _The day I betrayed your Empire, Governor, was the day I finally stopped betraying myself.”_

He’d said it and he’d meant it, thinking all the way back to Bahryn, where he betrayed the Empire by not killing or capturing Zeb. It’d been the first step in a long journey, but Kallus was grateful to have found his own way rather than still be spouting the Empire’s drivel.

Like Pryce, who wouldn’t shut up unless the wolves came sniffing around.

“Traitor!” she called to him for the twentieth time. “Regain your honor, Kallus. Release me!”

Kallus had ignored her up until that point. He glanced past her, to where Zeb talked to Ryder. “Honor? Governor, I’ve learned what honor truly is and the handful of Rebels here have more honor than the entirety of the Empire.”

Pryce looked over her shoulder and then back at Kallus, a wry smile on her face. “Thrawn knows about the lasat, Kallus. Orders are to kill him on sight.”

Kallus refused to react beyond the raising of his eyebrows. “And I suppose I’m still to be taken to Thrawn?”

“No,” Pryce said. “Straight to Mustafar.”

Setting his jaw, Kallus stared back at Pryce, hoping he appeared to be unphased.

It didn’t work. Pryce nodded at him and asked, “Do you still have the scars I gave you? I hope so. I want you to remember what you walked away from every single day. I want you to remember what you brought upon your own head. I want you to regret it before Lord Vader kills you for your treachery.”

“I’m certainly regretting this conversation,” Kallus said as he turned away, ignoring Pryce’s protests.

Sabine stood there, already dressed in her Scout Trooper uniform, arms crossed.

“Do you still think I’m untrustworthy?” Kallus asked, thinking back to their conversation before they first docked with Vizago.

“Eh,” she said. “You’re getting there.” The small grin on her face told the truth, however.

“What do you need?” Kallus asked, knowing there wasn’t time for _anyone_ to be slacking off at the moment. If there were, he and Zeb would still be talking, but…

“You and Ryder get her into the gunship.” Sabine gestured to Pryce. “You three, Zeb, and I are riding with Ezra in the first one.”

Kallus swallowed. That close to Zeb after he– well, after he did what he did and then didn’t get an answer.

No, not awkward at all. 

“We’ll load up right away,” Kallus said.

“Up you go.” Azadi’s voice came from behind Kallus, followed by the sounds of someone pulling Pryce to her feet. Kallus quickly joined and the two men walked her to the gunship, tossing her to the ground in the back.

The gunship rocked a little as Zeb stepped aboard, taking the spot next to Kallus.

Ezra and Sabine boarded, Azadi took the pilot’s seat, and the gunship took off, Kallus holding onto a bar over his head for balance.

The ride was quiet at first, but painful. Kallus was torn: to watch Pryce for signs of treachery or to look at Zeb properly for the first time in a while. 

Possibly the last time, too.

Zeb caught him looking and grinned before taking a step closer. “Look, Kal,” he said, just loud enough to be heard. “About that kiss. You sure you know what you’re asking?”

Kallus looked Zeb straight in the eyes. “Try me,” he challenged. _“Try me,” Zeb had said, back on Axxila._

Zeb rocked back on his toes a little. “Right then. I’m not gonna kiss you here. Not in front of everyone. But I will kiss you back, Kal. I promise.”

Heat spread to Kallus’s face and he knew he must be flushed. “You will?”

“Soon as all this’s done,” Zeb said. “And then we’re startin’ over, nice and proper.”

“Like we should have done all along, you mean?”

Zeb grinned again. “Yeah. Like that.”

Behind Kallus, Ezra groaned. “You are still not allowed to use my cabin while I’m living there.”

Embarrassed, Kallus looked out at the passing plains and rock formations. Zeb, on the other hand, merely laughed.

“Kid, this might be a good time to move in with Rex. He’s closer to your age, anyway,” Zeb teased.

“No he’s not!” Ezra protested. “Really?”

“Really,” Zeb said. “I was eleven when all the clones were born.”

 _And I was three_ , Kallus thought. _Didn’t know they existed until I was thirteen, though, when the Clone Wars started._

 _There’s been war since I was thirteen,_ Kallus reflected. _Most of my life. Most of Garazeb’s. All of these kids’. It has to end sometime, doesn’t it?_

Almost unconsciously, Kallus reached one hand out, caressing the exposed fur on Zeb’s arm, seeking some sort of comfort.

Zeb placed his hand atop Kallus’s and smiled again, big and full of teeth, fangs showing prominently.

Under other circumstances, Kallus might have been intimidated. But now that he knew Zeb wanted to kiss him back?

Zeb couldn’t scare him anymore.

Taking the Command Center had been easy. Too easy. Not a single injury or casualty: no one got a blaster burn, no one tripped and fell, no one even stubbed their toe. Zeb didn’t even punch Hondo for calling him ‘purple guy’.

That one had been pretty close, though.

Zeb leaned against the control panels, watching Kallus work. He’d headed straight to Kallus when he made it to the Command Center, but to be honest, Zeb had no clue what Kallus was doing at his console. He trusted the man to know his stuff, though. Plus, now that they’d established that they were going to court properly, Zeb could openly ogle the human. He didn’t have to hide it anymore, didn’t have to pretend that his heart didn’t clench every time Kallus walked by.

So he ogled. 

Kallus wore a frown, yes, and was completely engrossed in what he was doing. That expression, in that uniform, ought to have made him seem the ISB agent of old.

Zeb didn’t see that, however. He just saw a friend, a soon-to-be-lover, and a dedicated Rebel.

“You’re in my way, Garazeb,” Kallus said, quiet but serious. 

“Why don’t ya move me yourself?” Zeb teased.

The light flirting didn’t seem to make a difference; Kallus was firmly in mission mode, it seemed. He stared at Zeb until Zeb swapped sides, standing between Kallus and Sabine.

As he walked by, he made sure to trail his claws along Kallus’s lower back. _That_ , at least, got a shiver out of the man.

“Not now,” Kallus muttered.

Sabine shook her head. “Zeb, you’re horrible.”

“What?” Zeb protested. “I did my part. I got you in here, didn’t I?”

“You did, commendably, but now it’s our turn to work,” Kallus pointed out. “And we do have a limited amount of time.”

“Move again,” Sabine instructed. “You’re in _my_ way now.”

Zeb raised his hands in defeat and resituated himself on a completely different console a couple meters away.

Across the room, Pryce tried to say something haughty and taunting, but Sabine and Kallus both shut her down quickly, explaining that they didn’t need to _defeat_ the Empire’s forces on Lothal, just lure them all into the Dome.

“We’ll utilize Protocol Thirteen,” Kallus said, crisp and cool.

Pryce had no response.

Kallus moved to the bank of consoles by the large viewport and Zeb followed aimlessly, at a loss for anything else to do.

“Ready to launch this thing?” Zeb asked

“No,” Kallus said. “This _thing_ is not yet ready to launch and neither am I.”

Zeb frowned. “Huh?” 

Kallus sighed and lowered his voice. “Garazeb, I worked in this very building for four years. I know a lot of the officers stationed here, some of the troops. People who will be in the Dome when we destroy it.” He punched a few more buttons, perhaps a little harder than he needed to. “It’s necessary, but I can’t help but wonder…”

“If any of ‘em are like you?” Zeb finished? “If all they needed was a chance?”

Kallus’s answer was quiet. “Yes.”

“Kallus, you’re up!” Ezra called.

Zeb moved out of the way again, standing with Hondo and Ketsu as Kallus stepped up to the main console and activated the general loudspeaker.

“Attention, all personnel,” he said, enunciating even more clearly than usual. “Protocol Thirteen is now in effect. Report to your action stations immediately. Repeat: Protocol Thirteen is in effect.”

After that, it was a waiting game. Capital City wasn’t large compared to cities on many other planets, but it was still large enough to take a while for all the Imperial personnel to return to the Dome. All the Rebels stood where they were, waiting for something to go wrong.

Nothing did.

“All units have returned to their duty stations,” Kallus announced, turning to Ezra, “and the Dome is now secure.”

“Hera, start the launch cycle,” Ezra instructed. “Sabine, set the self-destruct.”

Zeb watched eagerly as Kallus and Hera worked together to prime the engines, almost missing it when the sky went dark.

“You’re too late,” sneered Pryce.

Looking up, Zeb saw an all-too-familiar Star Destroyer settling over the city. “Karabast!” he muttered.

Kallus took a step back from the control console and Zeb could see how tense he was. “It’s Thrawn,” he said, sounding far too calm for someone looking at the flagship of the man who tortured him.

Ezra tried – and failed – to get Thrawn to capitulate. Rex tried – and failed – to raise the city’s shield. 

Thrawn had been there for less than five minutes and already he had the upper hand.

Zeb watched in horror as the _Chimaera_ ’s turbolasers fired on Capital City. He watched in even more horror as Ezra surrendered.

Hera protested, saying there was always another way. It was easy to read between the lines: Hera couldn’t stand losing Ezra to the Empire, too.

Hells, neither could Zeb.

Kallus made his way toward the center of the room and Zeb followed.

“Thrawn’s not going to get you,” Zeb whispered, standing behind Kallus. “I’ll kill him first.”

“It’s not Thrawn I’m worried about,” Kallus replied, equally quietly. “It’s Vader.”

Zeb’s hands flexed. He itched to be holding his bo-rifle – or _any_ weapon, really – but he’d had to come unarmed. Glancing at the floor, he saw the collected blasters of the Imperials who’d been stationed in the room, who were now crammed in the nearest closet.

He should grab one of those. If they were going to fight, he’d need it.

Zeb had been right: he _was_ glad he snagged a blaster.

“You know that plan we had to trap all these stormtroopers in the Dome? It just occurred to me, we’re trapped with _all these stormtroopers in this Dome!_ ” he yelled into his comm. Hera would know he wasn’t mad, despite his tone, just stressed.

After all, running from stormtroopers _toward_ even more stormtroopers was just a bit stressful. And a bit too reminiscent of how he got captured the year before.

At least this time, he had Kallus at his side.

Oh, and Gregor.

They hit a T-intersection and skidded to a halt, watching as the blast doors closed behind them, cutting the stormtroopers off.

“ _You should have a clear path to the shield generator now_ ,” said Sabine over the comm.

She was right. Zeb led the way into the generator room, crouching behind some cover. The technicians firing on the other generator team wouldn’t know what hit them.

Zeb fired his blaster and then shook it. No wonder stormtroopers missed half the time if _this_ sort of weaponry was all they had to work with. The sights were off by at least a few millimeters, which turned into a very off-center aim.

While Zeb grumped at his blaster, Kallus snuck around and got in front of him.

“Get back,” Zeb hissed, dodging return fire. “You idiot, I can take more hits than you.”

“I can aim better from here,” Kallus said, proving his point by picking off a stormtrooper across the room.

“Yeah, but you’re exposed!”

Kallus didn’t answer, but Gregor did.

“Even with that bridge extended,” he yelled, “there’s just too many of them! We’re gonna have to do something drastic!”

Zeb lowered his blaster, thinking. He looked around the room, assessing the situation. Mostly, they faced techs, but there were some Death Troopers there and–

–and that gray alien.

Zeb’s eyes narrowed. He could take on the alien; he’d done it before. And the alien was probably in charge of the Death Troopers, so taking him out would rattle the Troopers.

“All right, I’ll do it!” he yelled to both Gregor and Kallus before making a run forward.

“Zeb, _don’t_!” Kallus said, softly at first, then a yell, reaching for Zeb as he passed.

Zeb didn’t stop. He couldn’t, not even for Kallus. He had to trust Kallus to reverse the manual override of the reactor and Kallus had to trust Zeb to take out the alien.

He was the muscle, after all.

Pushing off with all fours, he leapt to the center platform and then over and down, straight on top of the gray alien. He hit the next platform hard but kept rolling, taking both of them down into the reactor itself.

Zeb hit the ground hard, letting go of the alien. He stood, looking around, and didn’t see the gray thing, so Zeb started climbing up one of the reactor cells, hoping to see him from a height.

Halfway up, Zeb heard the alien behind him. He looked: the thing was on the next cell over, climbing quickly. It leapt to his cell and grabbed at his foot. Zeb knocked the alien back, but not down.

At the top of the cell, they met again, exchanging blows. Zeb leaned back, but the alien grabbed his armor, yanking him forward and off the cell.

Zeb went flying, face down, toward the ground. He scrabbled at the cell with his feet, grabbing on to a bar at the last second. _Thank the Ashla_ , he thought. _Kal will kill me if I die._

The alien stomped his foot, trying to make him let go, but Zeb fought back. Holding on with one foot as hard as he could, he reached with the other and grabbed the alien’s foot. Working quickly, he bent the bars of the cell, trapping the alien securely.

Zeb grinned. Let the alien get out of _that_.

“Now!” yelled Ketsu and Zeb realized that meant the reactor was about to be powered up. He righted himself and climbed back to the top of one of the cells, snagging the alien’s comlink as he did so.

“Zeb?” called Kallus, stretching out his name.

 _Huh. Used my nickname again. Must really be worried. This won’t help._ “Don’t wait on me!”

Zeb prepared to jump as the cells fired, glad to see that Kallus _hadn’t_ waited. At the last moment, he leapt again, up this time, and grabbed onto the walkway. Looking back, he watched as the bright red electricity reached all the way around the circle – and right to the alien.

Pulling himself onto the walkway, Zeb sent another little prayer up to the Ashla, hoping they got the shield up in time.

The alien’s comlink beeped. “ _Rukh! Rukh! What’s your status?_ ”

That was Thrawn’s voice. Oh, Zeb had things he wanted to say to the grand admiral, but just then he was going to gloat. Zeb grinned, still catching his breath. “Sorry. You’ll have to call back. He’s busy at the moment.”

Below him, the gray alien fried in the electricity, finally going limp. The smell of charred flesh reached Zeb’s nose. He made a disgusted sound.

“Yeah, um, never mind about calling back.” Zeb turned off the comlink and threw it away, figuring he didn’t need to keep it, despite the direct line to Thrawn. He started jumping again, slowly making his way back up the platforms. 

He didn’t hurry. They controlled the platforms, so the urgency was gone. And, from what little he could see, Gregor was down. Zeb could make out the heads of everyone else standing around in a circle; Gregor was the only one missing.

He made the last jump, gripping on to the walkway. He swung for a few moments, gathering his strength to pull himself up one last time.

A hand appeared and Zeb looked up into Kallus’s face. Zeb was only so-so at reading human expressions, but even he could see the sheer relief on Kallus’s face.

Zeb reached up and took Kallus’s hand, just like on Bahryn. And, just like on Bahryn, Kallus pulled him up and over, both men falling to the walkway.

Before he squashed Kallus, Zeb managed to catch himself, pinning the man instead. 

Hesitating, he found himself face to face with Kallus, mere centimeters apart. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the only one paying them any attention was Ketsu, still on the central platform.

Eh, let Ketsu watch. She seemed to be circumspect.

Zeb leaned in, nuzzling at Kallus’s neck.

“Zeb!” Kallus said, trying to fuss but just sounding like he was close to tears. “You’re a kriffing _idiot_ , why would you do that? I could have killed you!”

“Well, we needed something drastic,” Zeb said, laying little kisses up towards Kallus’s ear. “I’m pretty drastic.”

“You’re moronic, is what you are.” Kallus craned his neck to give Zeb better access.

“I told you not to worry about me.” Zeb pulled back just long enough to catch Kallus’s eyes – the pupils wide with… fear, maybe? Lust, perhaps? Something else? – and then he solidly, firmly, and purposefully kissed Kallus’s cheek. “And Kal? That’s my ‘yes’,” he said.

“Yes?” Kallus sounded surprised, as if they hadn’t discussed that very thing on the gunship.

Zeb leaned in again, kissing his cheek again, followed by his nose, his other cheek, and his forehead. “Now who’s moronic? Yes. I want to court. I want _you_ and I have all along.”

Kallus was pink by the time Zeb was through, his freckles standing out boldly against the blush.

“Hey!” called Ketsu, waving a comlink. “We gotta get back up there!”

Zeb rolled off Kallus and climbed to his feet. He grabbed Kallus’s hand to help him up, but didn’t let go after.

Kallus didn’t seem to mind. “We’re picking that up back up later,” he said.

“You bet we are,” Zeb replied and the two started running, catching up to the rest of the group fairly quickly.

Time to reunite the family – and this time, Zeb would make sure Kallus felt like he was part of it.

The crowd followed the _Ghost_ as it flew low and slow from the site of the Imperial Dome to the spaceport. Above them all, debris – dark and twisted bits of metal, mostly – hit the shield and bounced off, collecting at the city’s edges.

Hera sat the ship down, muttering. “I hope they move. I don’t want to hit anyone.”

“I don’t want to be mobbed,” Sabine said. “Think they’ll let us breathe?”

 _Oh karabast,_ thought Kallus. _Someone in that crowd will recognize me. I’ll just… stay aboard ship._

When the _Ghost_ sat down, Kallus hung back, deftly avoiding Zeb’s reach for his hand.

The lasat looked back, concerned; Kallus shook his head. Somehow, Zeb seemed to understand what he meant, sliding down the ladder without waiting for Kallus.

Watching out the viewport, Kallus saw the crowd receive the Rebels. At first, they seemed they might crush the very heroes they were lauding, but Azadi’s voice boomed out and the crowd backed off.

The group made it a few meters out before they figured out Kallus wasn’t with them. Hera looked up first, then Azadi, who bumped Zeb’s shoulder.

Zeb shrugged and Azadi pointed at Kallus and motioned for him to join them. Kallus tried to shake his head, to refuse, but Azadi stared.

Normally, Kallus could have won any stare-off, but he was still exhilarated from surviving – and winning – the battle, still regretful for all the lives lost, and still terrified of what the crowd might do if they recognized him. Lothal didn’t know he’d been Fulcrum. He’d done terrible things to the very people out there cheering. They had every right to want to see him held accountable.

Kallus shut his eyes for a second. The crowd might want him, but between Zeb and – he assumed – Azadi, they wouldn’t be able to get to him, short of assassination. And if the people of Lothal were willing to shoot _into_ the group of people who’d just liberated them, then perhaps Kallus deserved to be shot.

He crept down the ladder slowly, quietly, sneaking out to join the others.

Zeb met him with open arms. Kallus wasn’t sure whether Zeb really wanted to hug him or if he was just demonstrating to the crowd that Kallus was safe.

Azadi leaned in. “Kallus, I’m going to need your help. We’ve got prisoners to deal with.”

Right. The cadets and their instructors and guards. The Lothal Academy for Young Imperials was – well, _had been_ – attached to, but not part of the Imperial Complex. If they didn’t get there and take charge, it was possible the crowd might harm them.

Why the school instructors would be prisoners and not any number of technicians and officers in the Dome, Kallus wasn’t sure, but he was happy to know that there would be no more deaths that day.

At least not intentional ones.

Someone, somewhere brought a speeder around for them. Azadi must have requested it while Kallus was still in the ship, because he immediately motioned for Kallus and Sabine both to follow him. Kallus kept his head down and climbed into the back of the speeder, reluctant to leave Zeb’s side but reminded his skillset would be helpful to Azadi. Reminded he still owed the Rebels all he could give.

Zeb’s hand trailed after him as he went and Kallus felt another surge of that strange feeling he’d had after Atollon: a flutter of victory and utter, utter terror about leaving Zeb’s side and Zeb’s protection.

This time around, at least, he knew why the lasat was so important. Why Zeb might just be the most important person in his entire life.

Kallus realized he was smiling without even meaning to, Sabine looking at him strangely. He schooled his face and she laughed.

A perfect example. Only Zeb could make Kallus grin like a fool in public and not even be particularly mortified when caught.

The crowd parted around the speeder but their progress was slow, a creeping crawl as they made their way to the site of the Academy. Kallus felt like he was being watched – he _was_ still in Imperial uniform, he reminded himself, so it wasn’t that unexpected. Unlike Sabine in her trooper armor and brightly tipped hair, there was nothing to mark him as a Rebel. Nothing to say he was in a costume, not a prisoner.

The _actual_ prisoners were already gathered when they arrived, citizens of Capital City holding them at blasterpoint; one group of cadets, another of instructors.

Azadi hopped out of the speeder with the energy of a man half his age and immediately took charge of the situation. He sent Sabine to go talk to the cadets – “Tell ‘em we’ll get them home to their families as soon as we can” – while Kallus followed him to the smaller group of adults.

 _These_ detainees would probably not be sent home to their families, Kallus reflected. He wasn’t sure what to do with them, but _something_ had to be done before nightfall, which he realized with sudden exhaustion was coming soon.

They’d fought two battles that day. Three if one counted taking the Command Center and taking the reactor as separate actions. They’d stood up to an Imperial Grand Admiral known for outthinking his enemies at every turn – and Ezra had outthought the chiss. 

And then they’d lost Ezra.

At some point, they’d have to deal with that. The Spectres had lost two family members in the space of a few days; Kallus knew it would hit, probably sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sure if it would be better for him to stay close to support Zeb or allow the Spectres to mourn on their own.

“Kallus!” came a hissing voice, disrupting Kallus’s thoughts.

Looking for the source of the voice, he spotted one of the Academy instructors looking at him with a murderous gaze. 

“Nuessle,” Kallus said, coolly acknowledging her.

“So much for you being captured and killed by the Rebels,” she said. “Or did you gain sympathy for your captors?”

One side of Kallus’s mouth twitched. “My only captor was Thrawn,” he said. “For your sake, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to openly recruit others by sharing what I’d learned. Perhaps you’d be on my side of things then.”

She spat, demonstrating her opinion of his idea.

“Fine, then,” Azadi said, interrupting. “You choose the Empire. We’ll figure out more tomorrow, but for tonight, let’s get you all to the municipal jail. It’ll be crowded, but you’ll survive one night together. Probably.”

Kallus looked at the gathered instructors and guards. Some were in Imperial dress uniforms, some were in trooper armor. “Take off what you can,” he said. “Looking at the people of the city, you’ll fare better if you aren’t instantly recognizable as Imperial.”

Azadi nodded. “Do what he says.” He dropped his voice and spoke quietly to Kallus. “You might want to consider the same.”

“Once we get back to the _Ghost_ ,” Kallus promised. He already wished he’d thought to change before leaving the ship, but it was too late for that.

The prisoners started stripping tunics and belts and trooper armor. The effort was really pointless – they looked Imperial no matter what – but it showed that they had surrendered and gave Kallus a chance to check them all for hidden weaponry. He found a few holdout blasters and vibroblades in the group. Thankfully, only one thought to try to attack him with it.

Kallus found himself with a shallow slash across his chest, angling upwards toward his throat; he’d jumped back before the blade reached anything vital.

Azadi was quick to respond, hitting the instructor with a stun bolt as soon as Kallus was out of the way. “Anyone else want to try anything clever?” the former moff asked. “Next time I won’t stun.”

Gently touching his chest, feeling the torn fabric, Kallus’s hand came away bloody. The cut stung, thanks to the dirty, sweaty state of his skin. Kallus probably should have been concerned about being attacked, but he was honestly more concerned for his attacker once Zeb found out what happened.

They were _courting_. Zeb was jealous of what was his, Kallus knew, and as of that day, Kallus was Zeb’s.

Slowly, the pile of discarded uniforms and clothes grew, leaving the troopers and instructors with their faces exposed and hands free of gloves for the first time in Force knew how long.

Kallus remembered how disoriented he’d been when he’d finally left Imperial service – and he’d done it voluntarily. He could only imagine how these Imperials felt, with their entire identities – or lack thereof – ripped from them.

Looking at them, they weren’t faceless peons anymore: they were _people_. Humans, the lot of them, most from poor areas of the galaxy, just like Kallus. Some of them were probably true believers in the Empire’s mission, but based on Kallus’s experiences in the ISB, most low-level Imperials weren’t there to fulfill some personal missive. They simply wanted to make a living, have a solid career, and get away from the places they grew up.

It wasn’t really their fault they were Imperials. They’d simply taken the chances offered to them. If the Republic had offered a similar military track, Kallus was sure just as many people would have signed up as well.

He looked at the group sadly, wondering yet again how many of the thousands who died in the Dome had simply been trying to escape the lives they’d been born into. How many of them would have chosen the Rebellion if it offered a decent alternative.

Kallus sighed. The truth was, no matter what _might have been_ , each and every one of these humans had chosen the Empire.

Just like he had, nineteen years before.

“All right,” announced Azadi. “Line up. We’ll escort you to your home for the night and then tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do with you lot.”

Both groups stood, forming military-straight lines. Sabine stopped her group by Azadi’s. 

“We’ve got to get food for them,” she said. “These kids haven’t eaten since breakfast. And I don’t think they’ve had anything but ration bars since they got here.”

“They haven’t,” Kallus said. “Cadets get the same diet as stormtroopers.”

“Ugh,” Sabine groaned. “They did that to us on Mandalore. I’d hoped they’d changed that policy.”

“The Empire? Change to a more expensive policy to make their peoples’ lives pleasant?” Azadi laughed. “Sabine, you know better.”

Sabine laughed, too, but it wasn’t the bright sound she usually made. It was something softer and darker, somewhere between grief and rage.

“Sabine, lead the way,” Azadi said. “Kallus, I want you in the middle in case there’s trouble. I’ll bring up the rear and catch any stragglers.”

Kallus wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or upset to be in the middle. On the one hand, he was less likely to be singled out. On the other, it would be easier to mistake him for an Imperial. To be recognized.

The Capital City municipal building wasn’t far from the academy. The Imperials had replaced the ages-old Lothal Capitol Building with the Dome and firmly enforced Imperial law, but had left the day-to-day running of the city – refuse pickup, building ordinances, loth-rat extermination – to the Lothalians.

The municipal building included a small jail facility left over from the pre-Empire era. Fitting everyone in there would be possible, just not comfortable. 

It would be for one night only, Kallus reminded himself. Hera was probably making contact with Rebel Command at that moment. The Spectres might not need or want the rest of the Rebels to keep Lothal free, but they wouldn’t deny the larger Rebellion the intelligence that could be gathered from these prisoners.

 _It’s strange_ , he thought. _Why do I care so much about what happens to these prisoners? Is it because most of them are cadets and haven’t seen battle yet? Is it because I know some of their names and more of their faces? Has Zeb rubbed off on me **that** much?_

As they walked the half-kilometer to the municipal building, Kallus couldn’t help but notice the whispers and stares; the quiet anger stood out to him more than the shouts and jeers some Lothalians sent their way. The loud citizens were getting their resentment out, while the others would hold on to it and let it simmer. Let it explode later, at an inopportune time.

He accepted that the derision – be it verbal or non – was meant for him as well. He’d spent a terribly long time earning it, even if he had been a spy and a Rebel for the last two years. And to be honest, Kallus would happily take the ill will of the Lothalians if it meant they directed all their ire at him, rather than come to blame the Spectres for the destruction Thrawn had wreaked upon their city.

The worst of the destruction seemed to be closest to site of the Complex, which made sense. Thrawn’s orbital bombardment had been for show, not meant to tactically disable Lothal; he’d wanted the Rebels to _see_ the damage.

Hopefully, the municipal building was still intact. Kallus was tired and didn’t want to deal with finding a new site to house over a hundred prisoners.

They turned the street corner and for the umpteenth time that day, Kallus’s wishes were granted: the jail was nearly pristine, with only superficial damage to the building littering the street before it.

“Someone will be by with food and water,” Azadi said as they closed the doors to the largest cells. “Think about what you want to say in your own defense for tomorrow. I don’t know who’ll be here to judge you, but don’t presume leniency.”

Kallus caught Nuessle watching him through the bars with an accusatory glare. _That what happened to you?_ he imagined her asking. _Leniency?_

 _No,_ Kallus would have to answer truthfully. _A second Rebel lasat happened to me._

There’d been work to do at first and that had helped a lot. First it was facing the Imperials, then taking the Dome, then dealing with the citizens of Lothal – organizing searches through damaged areas for wounded and dead, finding temporary homes for the displaced, starting the cleanup process – then being sent by Hera to the other major cities of the planet to disarm and imprison the Imperials there.

It’d all been a wonderful distraction from the truth of what had happened.

They’d lost both Kanan and Ezra. 

Kanan was dead. Definitely dead. Ezra had seen that in that weird Jedi temple place.

And then Ezra…

Well, maybe he was dead, maybe he wasn’t. It all depended if the _Chimaera_ ’s shield held despite the purrgil breaking open the transparisteel viewports. Zeb knew it was roughly a fifty-fifty chance, knew Sabine and Hera knew it too, but he also knew they were all going to hold onto that chance.

The alternative was too much.

There’d been so much to do that Zeb hadn’t been able to stop and think. 

The latest distraction had been the constant partying by a large number of the citizenry. Zeb couldn’t blame them for celebrating in the streets, but as it neared midnight, he was starting to wish they would find somewhere else to do so.

Zeb sat out in the spaceport, around a makeshift campfire some Lothalian had started hours ago, Hera and Sabine cuddled in on either side of him. He knew the others – Mart, Ryder, Jai, Rex, Wollfe, and Kallus – were around somewhere, probably keeping the crowds from bothering the Spectres, but they seemed to understand the three of them needed space.

Arms wrapped around what remained of his _Ghost_ family, Zeb wished there were more he could do for his women. Hera and Sabine were as close to him as his flesh-and-blood sisters had ever been and he loved them just as much. Seeing them heartbroken – and _broken_ in general – made him viscerally ache with the desire to make things better.

But there wasn’t a way to make this better. He couldn’t bring Kanan back. He didn’t know where Ezra was. He couldn’t even promise that the work they’d done to liberate Lothal would be permanent.

All he could do was swear that he’d do what he could to preserve what was left of his family.

Footsteps neared the spaceport docking bay and Zeb swiveled his ears to try and identify who approached. “It’s Kal and Rex,” he whispered to the women.

No one stirred. Rex and Kallus had their own beds on the _Ghost_ and were probably headed there. They didn’t stop, just went on into the ship, and the Spectres let them.

Resting his cheek atop Sabine’s head, Zeb felt a momentary pang that Kallus hadn’t even paused, but it was probably for the best. They might have declared their intentions earlier that day, but celebration of that fact hardly felt appropriate. Zeb needed to be where he was.

 _Twice. Twice I’ve lost my families. Once was too much. Twice…?_ Zeb knew he could have lost more, could have lost the women, could have lost Kallus, but the pain of losing both Kanan and Ezra so close together was a sharp white hot vibroblade in his gut nonetheless. It was too close to losing Lasan again for his liking, too close to finding himself alone in the galaxy again.

He wasn’t alone, he knew, and he wouldn’t let either Hera or Sabine feel that they were alone, either. They’d all been there before – they’d all walked away from families, lost their homes – and the last thing Zeb wanted was for either of the women to feel that deep aching loneliness again. 

Zeb would take it on for them.

Not because they couldn’t handle it. Not because they needed to be sheltered.

Because he _could_ take it on for them. Because it helped him to protect his family. Because they deserved a little bit of relief after all the galaxy had put them through. Because they needed to know they had someone standing behind them as they did their jobs as leaders – in the Rebellion, on Mandalore.

And because Zeb could take a hit. He’d always been able to take a hit better than any of the other Spectres.

A soft snore rose from his side, half muffled into his fur. Zeb looked down to find Hera wiped out, tear tracks dried on her face.

On his other side, Sabine stirred. Leaning forward, she pointed to Zeb, then to Hera, then to the _Ghost_.

Zeb got the hint. He moved his arm so Sabine could stand up and she, in turn, helped him stand without waking Hera. Carefully, Zeb picked up Hera, cradling her against his shoulder with one arm – funny how someone with such a commanding presence was so tiny when asleep – and carried her into the _Ghost_.

Hera didn’t wake, even as Zeb tucked her into her bed. It would be hard again in the morning, waking up without Kanan next to her, but she’d sleep better there rather than the pilot’s chair as she had the last few nights.

Once the door _whoosh_ ed shut behind him, Zeb turned his attention to Sabine. “You gonna be able to sleep?” he asked softly.

Sabine nodded, sorrow still evident in her eyes and the set of her face. “I’ll sleep,” she said. “What about you?”

Zeb glanced at his cabin. He had it all to himself once more. That used to be a treat, but now…

“I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to inject some confidence into his voice. He reached out to hug Sabine one more time, wrapping his arms all the way around her petite frame. “It’ll all be fine, _saman’aki_.”

For a moment, Zeb thought Sabine might argue, but she simply nodded. “It will be. They made sure of that, didn’t they?”

 _They sure did._ “Lots of work tomorrow,” Zeb pointed out. “Go get some sleep, Sabine.”

She gave him a weak smile. “You, too, Zeb.”

He nodded and waited for her cabin door to close behind her. 

Standing in the open door to his own cabin, Zeb looked around. Posters Ezra put up were on the walls, looking a little worse for the wear. Helmets lined the shelves. Ezra’s clothes were piled in the corner, ready for a wash.

Everywhere he looked, Zeb saw Ezra. Saw how empty the cabin was without him. His heart clenched and tears threatened to fall yet again.

No, there was no way Zeb was going to be able to sleep in that room alone, not for a while.

Zeb looked at the common area, considered sleeping on the couch or seated at the dejarik table. 

There was a closer answer, though.

Kallus answered the door to his and Rex’s cabin when Zeb knocked softly. “Garazeb,” he said sympathetically. “What’s wrong?”

Zeb almost laughed. “Everything at the moment,” he said. “Kal, I need a favor from you.”

Kallus nodded, a serious expression on his face. “Anything,” he said and Zeb believed him.

“Come sleep with me. Just sleep. I– I don’t want to be alone.”

Kallus’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments and then he nodded. “Of course.”

Gently, Kallus picked up one of Zeb’s hands in both of his and stroked the short fur of his palm. He stepped forward, letting the door close behind him, and led the way to Zeb’s bunk. Kallus motioned for Zeb to crawl in first.

Zeb complied, willing to let Kallus take charge. He lay with his back to the wall, watching as Kallus climbed in after him.

Kallus reached up and put a hand on Zeb’s cheek. He didn’t say anything – no platitudes, no reassurances, no apologies. He simply was _there_ , a warm, reassuring presence.

At that moment, Kallus was _everything_ Zeb needed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for referenced previous self-harm (Kallus's hands from ch. 16)

Imperial officer’s bunks were cold places, hard as the Empire their occupants served, not meant to encourage their occupants to linger.

The _Ghost_ ’s beds were not much better in the comfort department.

To be honest, though, Kallus could have woken up on a stone slab and still been smiling: for the third time, he woke up wrapped in Zeb’s arms. And unlike the first two times, he felt no compulsion to move before Zeb woke up.

Zeb had kissed Kallus back. Zeb had asked Kallus to join him in his bunk.

Zeb _wanted_ Kallus there. And Kallus wanted to be there.

He buried his face in Zeb’s chest, matching the lasat’s slow and even breathing. One hand trailed down Zeb’s neck, shoulder, and arm repeatedly, lazily petting the soft purple fur.

For a moment, Kallus felt like he belonged there, in Zeb’s arms.

It was only a moment, however, before Kallus’s brain started working again.

_Zeb wanted you because he didn’t want to be alone. Even if he **does** want you like you want him, you need to be there for him right now, not ask anything of him. He’s lost too much. Your desires come second._

Zeb’s breathing hitched and he wrapped his arms tighter around Kallus. “What is it?” he mumbled, voice scratchy and slow with sleep.

Kallus froze where he was, hand halfway down Zeb’s arm. “Nothing,” he said.

“Liar. Nothin’ always means somethin’.” He paused a moment. “Kissed you back yesterday. Better not be worryin’ ‘bout us.”

“I’m not worry–”

Zeb sighed and pushed back against the wall a bit, trying to look Kallus in the eyes. His voice was still thick with sleep, but the gravity of his words came across anyway. “‘M no Jedi, but I can _hear_ you worryin’. Kal, don’t think yourself out of this.”

Kallus bit his lip, looking into Zeb’s eyes as the lasat woke slowly, becoming more and more aware. “Would you believe I was worrying about you? About how I can help you?”

Zeb’s eyes turned sad, but he forced a smile. “Kal, just bein’ here helps.”

Hearing Zeb say his nickname, Kallus was struck with a certain realization. “Alexsandr,” he said. “You may still call me Kal if you like but my first name is Alexsandr.”

Kallus expected the brief widening of Zeb’s eyes. He expected that large brow to knit into a frown.

He hadn’t expected laughter.

“You’re just _now_ tellin’ me your name?” Zeb chuckled. “After–”

“After all this time, yes.” Somewhat mortified, Kallus pointed out, “But you never asked.”

“Well, I don’t know how all humans do names,” Zeb argued. “For all I knew, you only _had_ the one name. Some cultures do that.”

“Do you know _anyone_ from Coruscant with just one name?” Kallus asked.

“I thought I did, _Alexsandr_ ,” Zeb said, a soft smile forming as he rolled the _r_ at the end of Kallus’s name. One hand slid up Kallus’s back to cup his head, holding him still while Zeb kissed his forehead. “Here I’ve kriffed you in every way and you never bothered to tell me your name. Seems like that shoulda come up before now.”

Kallus hadn’t meant for the conversation to take that sort of turn, meant to answer the ‘name’ part of Zeb’s statement instead, but felt compelled to address the other bit. “Not _every_ way.”

“Hmm?”

“I said you haven’t kriffed me in every possible way. I’ve never properly bottomed,” Kallus pointed out.

Zeb grinned lazily, but Kallus saw the interest in his luminous green eyes. “Should fix that,” he drawled. “And maybe, this time, you’ll face me while we do it?”

Kallus shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew Zeb was sharp. He knew he’d been obvious, but still… “You noticed that, huh?”

Zeb’s hand came around Kallus’s head, cupping his jaw. “Kal, you are not nearly as sneaky as you think you are. Especially when you’re horny.”

The solemn way he said it made Kallus snort, pulling a wider smile from the lasat.

“Why’d you do it?” Zeb asked. “Why wouldn’t you look at me?”

“Because it would have been too much,” Kallus said, marveling at his own honesty. “Because you wouldn’t kiss me. Because I didn’t think you wanted me for anything but physical pleasure and seeing that in your eyes would have killed me.”

Zeb rolled onto his back, easily pulling Kallus on top of him. “I thought that’s all you wanted from me, too,” he explained.

Kallus shook his head, hair falling loose around his face as he looked down on Zeb. “Never that. I always wanted more from you. I should have looked up your customs earlier and then I would have known why you wouldn’t kiss me.”

Zeb was kind enough not to say ‘you should have’. Instead he ran his hands down Kallus’s sides. “I didn’t realize kissing was so important to humans. Kanan and Hera…” he trailed off for a moment.

Kallus waited. There might be a time when Zeb would want his sympathies, but they weren’t called for just yet.

“Kanan and Hera didn’t kiss in front of us,” Zeb finished. “I thought humans might be as private as we are about it.”

Zeb had a point, Kallus conceded. The humans Zeb had been around most – Kanan, Sabine, and Ezra – had hardly gone around blatantly romancing partners. Kanan and Hera had always been circumspect about their relationship around Kallus; it appeared they were just as circumspect around their crew.

“Some humans are,” Kallus said. “I believe I fall into that category, but to humans, kissing doesn’t have quite the connotations it does for you. It’s something even casual couples might do.”

Zeb seemed to take a moment to digest the new information. “Well, I hope it’s not a problem to wait,” he said timidly, as if he might take it back if pressed. “Let me show you what we do.”

Kallus found himself pulled down to meet Zeb’s face halfway. He thought Zeb might kiss his face again, but instead the lasat rubbed their cheeks together, their facial hair catching roughly against each other’s, one side first and then the other. After that was done, Zeb pressed his forehead to Kallus’s.

It was tempting to lean forward and close the distance between their lips, but Zeb wasn’t ready for that and Kallus wasn’t going to push him. It was enough, for now, to know that Zeb wanted to court and to… do whatever it was they had just done. It had felt intimate in a way no kiss had ever been.

“What was that?” Kallus asked quietly.

Zeb rubbed a thumb along Kallus’s jawline. “That was so we carry each other’s scents. Now others will know we’re together.”

“Scenting,” Kallus said. “I read about that.”

Zeb hummed agreeably. “You’ve read a lot. About time you got some practical experience, isn’t it?”

Kallus felt a grin forming and found he had no ability to stop it. “Perhaps it is,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

Zeb’s voice dropped, lower and huskier, the way it had before when they’d slept together. “It’s not your mind I want in.”

Just the thought of Zeb coming inside him – after all this time, under these changed circumstances – made Kallus clench in anticipation. He arched an eyebrow to cover his desperate reaction. “Do you think you can do this quietly enough the others won’t hear?”

“Not really,” Zeb said. “But I don’t care.” He slapped the light controls, giving the room a warm dim glow, and grabbed Kallus again, guiding him off the bed to a standing position. Zeb stayed seated, his hands resting on Kallus’s hips.

Feeling emboldened, Kallus bent and kissed the top of Zeb’s head before finding the clasp for the lasat’s jumpsuit. He ran his fingers through thick, short fur as he nudged the jumpsuit down, centimeter by centimeter. Slowly, more purple-striped fur was revealed, ruffling under Kallus’s hands.

Zeb started breathing heavier, which sent a thrill through Kallus. It’d been months since he he’d gotten to be this close to Zeb. Months since he last saw him naked and vulnerable. Months since he felt fur on his most sensitive skin.

It’d been even more months since he realized he wanted Zeb – and now, finally, he knew Zeb had wanted him all along, as well.

Just the thought of being _desired_ by a man like Zeb made Kallus stir in his loose sleep pants.

In the confined space of the bunk, Zeb’s scent grew stronger, thicker, and muskier as he was aroused. Kallus buried his face in Zeb’s neck for a moment, savoring the smell, savoring the fact that Zeb had chosen him, savoring the thought that this moment was where his entire life had been leading to.

Zeb lifted off the bed a little to allow Kallus to completely remove his jumpsuit. His cock peeked out of his slit, already glistening in the low light of the cabin.

Kallus went to his knees in front of Zeb, sliding fingers along his slit, coaxing his cock out the rest of the way with tongue and touch and tenderness.

Oh, he’d _missed_ the way the lasat tasted. He’d missed the way his nubs felt against Kallus’s tongue, the viscous slick between his fingers.

Zeb groaned and reached to stop Kallus. “Too many clothes,” he said, short and succinct.

He wasn’t wrong. Kallus pulled off his shirt, but as he stood to take off his pants, Zeb reached out and grabbed his hands.

“What happened there?” Zeb asked.

 _Oh._ Kallus glanced down at the bacta bandages crossing his chest. “Holdout vibroblade yesterday. It’s superficial, nothing bacta won’t fix,” he said quickly, hoping to get back to the task at hand.

Zeb nodded, though he didn’t appear convinced, and rubbed his thumbs over Kallus’s hands. “And I suppose these were superficial, too?”

Kallus blanched. Zeb was staring right at his scarred knuckles, at the injuries he’d given himself after Zeb, well, after Zeb dumped him. The ones he’d gotten from beating on that tree until his tendons were visible. The ones he’d gotten from hating himself in that moment. He was ashamed of his behavior now, but… 

“No,” he said truthfully. “Those were not.”

Zeb looked back up, into Kallus’s eyes. “A mission?” he asked.

“No,” Kallus repeated. “Me.”

“You tore up your own hands?” Zeb seemed concerned. “Why?”

Kallus took a deep breath, figuring how best to explain things without sounding accusatory. The injuries had all been his own fault, not Zeb’s. “I didn’t react well when you ended things,” he said slowly. “I took my frustrations out on one of the Massassi trees. Zaarin stopped me before I did worse.”

“Kal…” Zeb turned over Kallus’s hands, seeing the scars on his palms as well. “Oh, Kal, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know I was coming that day to see if you’d let me kiss your cheek?” Kallus blurted out, a little desperate. “I’d finally figured out why you hadn’t let me kiss you. I thought I’d figured out that you wanted me, too, and I had planned to make my own intentions known. If you’d let me speak first…”

“Karabast,” Zeb swore softly. He repeated his apology. “Kal, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I was so wrapped up in trying to protect myself, I never considered that you might have wanted more than just sex.”

“Oh, I do want sex,” Kallus said, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation back in a more agreeable direction. “But I also want to have you in other ways. I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss your face. I want to fall asleep wrapped in your arms. I want you to know just how important you are. I wouldn’t be alive still if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t have seen the truth if it weren’t for you.”

Zeb let Kallus’s hands slide from his, instead wrapping one big hand around the back of Kallus’s head and pulling him down. He kissed Kallus’s cheek, just barely touching the edge of Kallus’s mouth. “Kal. Alexsandr. You don’t need to worry; you can have me however you want. I love you. I want you in my life, all of it. You’re not just family: you’re more than that, if you want to be.”

Kallus theoretically heard all of what Zeb said, but his brain stuttered to a halt after the word ‘love’. “Garazeb…” he said tentatively. “You don’t mean that. You can’t love _me_.”

“I can and I do. I have for a long time now. If I hadn’t loved you so much, I might not have walked away. I think–” he paused “–I think maybe I started loving you the moment I saw you at Atollon. Saw what you’d gone through for our sakes.”

Kallus shook his head, disbelieving, Zeb’s hand still mussing his hair. “No, you can’t have wanted me then. Not as I was. I was still Imperial.”

Zeb shrugged, but the fond look didn’t leave his eyes. “So you needed to change some more and maybe it was good we waited ‘til now, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t still want you.”

The words to properly respond to Zeb’s honesty escaped Kallus. There he was, half undressed in front of a naked Zeb, hard and aching, and Zeb had stopped to check on him – and then _professed love_.

How _could_ he respond? The normally eloquent Alexsandr Kallus was at a total loss for words.

 _Love._ Kallus knew he loved Zeb, too, and wanted to say it out loud but his tongue felt thick and he didn’t trust his voice not to break.

And he refused to sound _silly_ when he told Zeb he loved him as well.

Instead of answering verbally, Kallus reached up and took Zeb’s hand from his head, bringing it around for a light kiss on each of his four fingers – and a fifth on his palm. He lingered on each one, feeling the short, stiffer fur against his lips. The sensation wasn’t new, but the emotion behind it was.

All because _Zeb loved him_.

Zeb watched Kallus kiss his hand with half-lidded eyes, his fond gaze turning into something more lascivious, belying the tenderness of the previous moments. With his free hand, he tugged at Kallus’s pants, exposing the fact that Kallus had slept without underwear.

“Finally,” Zeb laughed, half-seriously, “I don’t have to unwrap twenty layers to get to see you.” One furry finger trailed up the length of Kallus’s dick.

The sensation of fur against his skin was nearly too much – he was too sensitive, too full of emotion and memory – and Kallus reached out to steady himself against Zeb’s shoulders.

Zeb seemed proud to make Kallus stumble like that. His hand dropped and he stroked himself gently, covering his fingers with slick and stiffening his cock all the way. “If I’m going to kriff you, we need to get you ready,” he said. “We’re going to do this right and slow and proper.”

The reminder should have been needless, but Kallus was a little too lost in his own head to remember things on his own. “Prep. Right.”

With one thick, slippery finger, Zeb teased at Kallus’s entrance. They both knew Kallus would have to handle things himself before he could take even one of Zeb’s fingers, but Zeb was a little too good at the teasing.

Just like he’d been a little too good at all the kriffing they’d done before. Kallus could only dream of being as talented and considerate a lover as Garazeb Orrelios.

Kallus pulled on Zeb’s hand, making the lasat stand so they could swap positions. He sat on the bed and wrapped both hands around Zeb’s cock, stroking him just firmly enough that Zeb had to grab onto the bunk for support. Inordinately pleased and with his fingers coated in slick, Kallus leaned back and spread his legs wide so that Zeb could see _everything_.

As Kallus prepared himself – first one long finger, then two, sliding lazily in and out of his hole – Zeb breathed heavily, gripping the top bunk as if his life depended on it.

“Kark it, Kal,” Zeb swore, eyes never leaving Kallus’s fingers. “You keep this pace up, I’m going to come long before you’re ready for me.”

“No,” Kallus said, fully certain. In that moment, he found his voice again. Not to _say_ ‘I love you’ but to make sure Zeb understood that fact anyway. “You won’t. In fact, you’re not going to come until I do.”

Zeb’s eyes widened just a bit at Kallus’s direction. “Oh,” he breathed. “Bloody hell.”

Kallus pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the bedsheet. “It’s your turn, Garazeb. Make me ready for that glorious dick of yours. I’ve been waiting for this a long time.”

“You’n me both, mate,” Zeb grumbled, but he followed instruction well. Carefully, he inserted a finger inside Kallus.

Though he tried not to gasp, tried not to slide forward to further impale himself on Zeb’s finger, tried not to appear as desperate and eager as he really was, Kallus failed miserably. “ _Karabast_ ,” he sighed, trembling as Zeb slowly made his way past the rings of muscle. “You’re very good.”

“You’re just now figurin’ that out?” Starting at Kallus’s knee, Zeb laid little kisses all the way down his thigh, ending by using that dexterous tongue on Kallus’s dick. 

Kallus couldn’t help but keen at the attention. 

Slowly, carefully, Zeb stretched Kallus until he felt he could take no more. “Now, Zeb,” he said, gasping for little breaths. “Do it now unless you _want_ me to come from just your fingers.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Zeb pulled out his fingers, leaving Kallus feeling far too empty, and crawled onto the bed over him. “How’d you want me?”

 _How do I want you? In all the ways I can, for as long as I can before you come to your senses._ “On your back,” Kallus instructed, moving aside. He was a little slow, already aching both from the stretch and from the desire to be filled.

Zeb complied easily, lying down with his hands behind his head and a cheeky grin on his face. Kallus couldn’t help but smile back.

Oh, how he wished he could kiss that mouth.

Instead, though, he was finally about to be kriffed by Zeb like he’d wanted from the beginning.

Some dreams were coming true, at least. Most of them, really. Kallus would just have to hold out for the others.

Straddling Zeb’s waist, Kallus positioned himself, hands on Zeb’s chest, barely touching the lasat’s cock to his hole. He breathed deeply and slowly sat down.

Back when they’d first started sleeping together, Kallus had never seen a thing quite like a lasat cock. Dark as Zeb’s stripes, large and slightly bulbous at the bottom, covered with slick-producing nubs, and emerging from a slit that was otherwise nearly invisible… it was another reminder that Zeb wasn’t just any lover. 

_If this feels as good inside me as it does in my hands and mouth, I’m about to lose the ability to think._

He sunk down, taking Zeb into him slowly. The lasat’s breath hitched as Kallus reached the wider part of his cock and Kallus’s breathing wasn’t much better.

Zeb reached up and rubbed Kallus’s arms, right thumb lingering over the claw scars on his left bicep. “You okay?” he asked. “Don’t push yourself.”

Kallus shook his head. He was beginning to think maybe they should have stretched him more, but he was not one to back down from a challenge. As long as Zeb was producing slick, as long as he went slowly, he ought to be fine.

That, of course, assumed Kallus was thinking at all sensibly. He pressed down hard, taking Zeb into him quicker than was probably advisable, biting his lips to keep from making any noise.

Zeb was not so circumspect. “Karabast!” he cried out. “Stars, Kal, I wasn’t expecting that!”

Kallus swallowed, waiting for his body to adjust to something of Zeb’s size inside of him – but would it ever? “I’m sorry for not issuing a proper warning,” he managed to say.

Zeb laughed, moving Kallus as his body shook. Kallus gripped Zeb’s chest tighter, fingers winding into fur to steady himself. “You’re a piece of work.”

“I am but what you’ve made of me,” Kallus said, the quip ruined by the way his voice cracked.

Zeb paused, touching Kallus’s jaw lightly. “And you mean that, don’t you, Alexsandr? You think it’s been me changin’ you when you’ve done all the work yourself.”

Closing his eyes, Kallus ignored Zeb’s words and instead focused on the physical sensations: the way the very non-human cock felt inside him, the way he felt complete in a manner he never had before, the way Zeb’s hand on his face was burning hot against his skin.

Taking a shaky breath, Kallus began moving, feeling each nub and swell enter and exit as he worked.

Zeb let Kallus set the pace, at first doing nothing, but soon they found a rhythm, Zeb’s hips rising to meet Kallus on each stroke, each gasp, each bitten lip, and each cry.

Kallus could barely meet Zeb’s eyes as they moved; the lasat’s eyes were full of something that looked like adoration.

But it couldn’t be. Kallus adored Zeb and Zeb deserved it, not the other way around.

“Look at me,” Zeb said, as if he read Kallus’s mind. “Kal. Alex. You never let me see you before and I wanna see you now.”

Kallus brought his gaze down from the wall, meeting Zeb’s eyes. Immediately, he was at risk of drowning in a sea of bright green, almost luminous in the dim bunk light. “Garazeb,” he managed to say, caught between Zeb’s eyes and Zeb’s cock.

He never wanted to be anywhere else ever again, even if his thighs were already burning from the prolonged exercise.

Zeb grunted loudly as Kallus clenched down a little to provide some pressure. Deep in Zeb’s chest, a purr started, rumbling under Kallus’s hands. Kallus tried to shush Zeb, but he didn’t get the reaction he was expecting.

“Why’m I the only one who makes noise? Force, I wanna hear you. I wanna know you’re enjoyin’ yourself.” Zeb snuck a hand between then, giving Kallus’s dick a stroke.

Kallus grunted softly, biting his lip.

“Louder,” Zeb said, stroking his thumb across the head of Kallus’s dick. 

Kallus didn’t know if he could bring himself to make noises any louder – that was _embarrassing_ and _uncouth_ – but he could speak. Probably. “Zeb,” he said, too lost to properly pronounce the lasat’s full name. “Kriff, Zeb, I’ve never felt anything like this. Like you. I never want this to end.”

But it would end, Kallus knew. Before long, he could feel the approach of his own orgasm, rising from a plateau of sensation, building in his back first and radiating around his hips. “Zeb!” he said, in an attempt to warn. “Don’t stop. _Please_!”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Zeb huffed, his free hand on Kallus’s waist, steadying him as their thrusts became increasingly more erratic.

Kallus’s orgasm hit hard, a powerful wave making him spill his seed into Zeb’s hand. It washed over him, through him, leaving him trembling and weak and barely hanging onto coherence. It wasn’t just the satisfying feeling of ejaculation, it was being filled by something larger than his body was meant to take, knowing that the being underneath him _loved him despite himself_. And knowing that he loved that being back.

He thought he might have things under control when Zeb’s hips stuttered beneath him and the lasat cried out. “ _Kriff, Alex!_ ”

If Kallus thought he’d been full before, he had to think again as the lasat came inside him. He gasped as he was filled even further, the light blue come spilling out of his body around Zeb’s cock, coating them both with the sticky spend.

It was too much. Kallus managed a weak “Garazeb…” before collapsing onto Zeb’s chest and blacking out.

He awoke mere moments later, breathing heavily – practically _panting_ – and clinging to Zeb. For his part, Zeb hadn’t moved him, just wrapped large arms around him

Zeb, still purring happily, didn’t notice Kallus awakening for a few seconds. Kallus moved his head to rest his chin on Zeb’s chest and gaze up at the lasat.

Zeb met his eyes and smiled loosely. He appeared to still be in a bit of orgasmic haze. He had the presence of mind to say something, though. “I always wanted to know what you look like when I make you come. That was worth waiting for.”

Kallus didn’t bother to fight the blush; he was too busy trying to focus. He needed to say something very important.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you more than I have ever loved anything or anyone.”

Zeb’s hands stopped their lazy stroking of Kallus’s back. “You do?”

Kallus almost laughed out of sheer hysterics. “Of course I do. Garazeb Orrelios, you are the most important being in my entire life. Without you, I would be dead or worse, still mindlessly serving the Empire. Without you, I would be lost and alone in the Rebellion, without purpose. Without you, I wouldn’t have a reason to keep fighting.”

Zeb blinked, the calming sound of the purr coming to a quick stop. “You would,” he argued. “You’d’ve seen the truth eventually.”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Kallus said firmly. “But all it took to change my galaxyview was one night on Bahryn with you.”

Zeb ran a hand up Kallus’s back, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling him down to kiss his forehead. “You changed my life, too, y’know.”

 _If I were the superstitious type,_ Kallus mused, _I might think the Force had something to do with bringing us together at just the right times._

Imitating Zeb’s earlier motions, Kallus scented Zeb although he was pretty sure the sex had mingled their scents more than rubbing cheeks could. He could feel Zeb smile against his face, pulling a smile out of Kallus as well.

Kallus collapsed, rolling off Zeb – the lasat’s soft member slipping out of him and back into its messy slit – and nestling against Zeb’s side. His eyes fluttered closed and he felt ready to sleep once more.

“You know we’re going to have to clean up and get out there soon, right?” Zeb said, though his voice was anything but eager.

“Mmm,” Kallus hummed, circling one of Zeb’s nipples with his finger. “I think Lothal can wait a few more hours for her conquering hero to emerge.”

Zeb chuckled, the sound reverberating merrily in the bunk. “Heroes, you mean.”

Kallus had the presence of mind not to argue.

They lay in silence for a bit, neither one willing to move, despite the uncomfortable mess drying on their skin and in their fur.

Eventually, Zeb broke the silence. “So can I call you Alexsandr in front of the others?”

“I suppose,” Kallus said without much thought. He didn’t mind the Rebels he worked with knowing his first name; it had simply never come up or been important.

“How about Alex?”

Kallus grimaced. He’d noticed Zeb using that nickname while they kriffed and he hadn’t minded, but it was just so… _casual_. Could he really stop Zeb, however? “If you must,” he answered.

Zeb frowned. “That didn’t sound like a yes.”

Sighing, Kallus propped himself up on his elbow so he could see Zeb better. “ _Alex_ is what I was called as a child. Usually I prefer not to be reminded of those times.”

Nodding, Zeb placed a soft hand on Kallus’s chest, over his heart. “Alexsandr it is, then.”

Kallus gave the slightest hint of a smile. “Garazeb, if _you_ want to call me Alex, that’s fine. But perhaps not in front of the others lest they pick it up, too?”

“Gotcha. Alex only in private.” Zeb slid his hand up to Kallus’s face again. “Just for us.”

Kallus nuzzled into his palm. “Is there anything I can do for you, Garazeb?”

Zeb huffed. “Tell me about your childhood someday. You almost never mention it.”

“You rarely talk about life on Lasan,” Kallus pointed out. “But I meant _now_. What can I do to help you and Hera and Sabine and Rex?”

“You’re doing it,” Zeb said. “Just bein’ here is good.”

“Garazeb,” Kallus promised, “I will _always_ be here. You can’t get rid of me now.”

“Good.” Zeb kissed the end of his nose. “Wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

Kallus allowed himself a smile as he buried his face in Zeb’s neck. Zeb, his love. Zeb, who loved him.

 _For all the bad I’ve perpetrated over the years,_ Kallus thought, _I must have done something right along the way to have gained this._

“I love you,” he said, just to hear it aloud again.

Zeb held him closer. “Love you, too, my Alex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the pinned tweet on @fandomhixystix for an update on my writing!


	22. Chapter 22

“I stand by what I said before. We don’t need the Rebellion.” Zeb crossed his arms, scanning the other Rebels standing in a loose circle in front of the _Ghost_.

“If the Empire returns, they’ll come in force,” Kallus pointed out. “If we don’t call in more help, it might be suicide for us _and_ all of Lothal.”

Zeb glared at Kallus. He’d thought that maybe, _just maybe_ , since they were finally together the human would agree with him. Instead, they’d ended up on opposite sides of the issue.

Kallus was nonplussed by Zeb’s pointed look. Zeb sighed and turned his attention back to the others.

“Um,” spoke up Mart. “I was happy to come help you guys, but I want to fight with the whole Rebellion, not sit here on Lothal waiting to be killed.”

Hera nodded, a little slowly. Zeb wasn’t sure if she was pondering Mart’s words or still in shock, but the motion seemed off. “Someone should take anyone who wants to go back to base. As a general, I should report in, whether we ask for further help or not.”

“Reporting in is one thing, Hera,” Sabine said, idly drawing in the dirt where she knelt. “But are you taking all of us with you? Ezra said–”

“That he’s counting on you,” Hera finished. “No, you stay here. I think I’ll take this trip on my own.”

_She needs time to grieve,_ Zeb translated. _We all do._

He’d been happy that morning, with Kallus, truly happy, but hearing that Kallus loved him back didn’t fill the hole left behind by Kanan and Ezra; it just filled the hole Kallus had put there in the first place. They were all still operating under war conditions – _you don’t stop to mourn or you’ll get killed too_ – but soon it would end, one way or another. Either the Empire would come and kill them all or they’d hold Lothal.

And then they would have to figure out what to do without Kanan and Ezra.

“There’s plenty to do here,” Ryder said. “While I think we can handle cleanup on our own, I would welcome help with our Imperial prisoners. I’m not quite sure what to do with them.”

“Shoot them,” muttered Vizago.

“Hondo agrees,” said the weequay, raising a finger. “Too many prisoners for this pirate.”

“Hold up, some of them are cadets,” argued Jai. “We need to get them _home_ , not shoot them.”

Hera nodded at Ezra’s friend. “Jai’s right. We need to find out how to get the cadets home. And Vizago, we don’t shoot our prisoners.”

“Unless they deserve it,” mumbled Ryder, so low most couldn’t hear him.

Zeb suppressed a smile, both at Ryder’s snide remark and Hera’s steadier voice. She sounded more herself the longer she talked.

“I’ll head back to base today,” Hera said. “Mart, Jai, you’re both coming with me, as well as anyone else who wants to go. We’ll tell the Council what happened and see what they say. At the least, I expect they’ll want to question our prisoners for whatever intel they may have.”

Melch squealed something Zeb didn’t understand and Hondo nodded. “And you will return Hondo to his ship, correct?”

Hera sighed. “Yes, Hondo. We’ll get you and Ketsu back to your ships and you back to Seelos if you want, Wolffe. Vizago…”

The devaronian shrugged. “The _Broken Horn_ is gone and I‘ve seen too much. I will come with you to the Rebellion.”

Wolffe and Rex exchanged glances. “We’re with the Rebellion, too.” Rex made a motion with his hand, an undecided sort of gesture. “If they send forces here, we’ll come back.”

“Sabine? Zeb? Kallus?” Hera asked.

“We’re staying,” Sabine said and Zeb nodded agreement. “Lothal needs us.”

“Fine.” Without waiting for a separate response from Kallus – perhaps Hera knew they’d choose to stay together – she looked at Ryder. “Do you think we can resupply the _Ghost_ so the rest of us can leave today?”

“I believe we can manage that,” Ryder said.

“Let’s get to it, then.” Hera gestured for Ryder to follow her into the ship.

Zeb turned to Kallus, whose face didn’t change. “Garazeb, if you’re going to get mad at me for arguing–”

“No,” Zeb said. He was irritated but he wasn’t _mad_. “Guess I just thought you’d back me. Not that it matters; Hera agreed with you anyway.”

Kallus took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “It’s only strategy. I simply don’t wish to see Lothal fall again after we lost so much taking it.”

Zeb arched his brows in surprise. “‘We’?”

Immediately, Kallus’s face shut down. “I’m sorry. _You_ lost a lot. _Your family_ lost a lot. _The Rebellion_ lost a lot. Not me.”

Grabbing Kallus by the elbow, Zeb shook his head. “No, Alex. You’re one of us; I’ve told you that. I was just glad to hear you include yourself.” When Kallus didn’t seem convinced, Zeb pushed on. “Kanan and Ezra both liked you. You’d’ve known if they didn’t; you wouldn’t have gone on any missions with us at all.”

“I just went on the few, while we were–” Kallus dropped off mid-sentence.

“While we were kriffing,” Zeb finished for him. “Look, Ezra was a brat to everyone. Him sassing you meant he accepted you. And I know I saw you and Kanan talking more than a few times.”

Kallus nodded grimly. “He spoke of Coruscant, mostly. We grew up very close together. I’m surprised how much of life outside the Temple he knew.”

Zeb smiled, a little fondly, a little sadly. “He said he was always asking questions and exploring as a kid. That’s why his master picked him.”

“So he said.” Kallus sighed. “I wanted to consider him a friend, but I always assumed he – and the rest of you Spectres – put up with me for your sake.”

Glancing around, Zeb noted everyone else was at least pretending to give them their privacy. Taking advantage of that, he wrapped an arm around Kallus’s shoulders and rested his face on the man’s head, breathing in the sweet and spicy smell of the shampoo he must have used that morning. “What will it take for you to realize people can like you for your own sake?”

Kallus didn’t answer.

Zeb didn’t push, not when he knew they might be overheard, but he filed that moment away in his memory. He’d come back to that point later, when Kallus would be more likely to answer honestly.

When Zeb looked at Kallus, he saw someone who deserved to be liked. He was honorable enough to change his mind when presented with new information and to apologize for past wrongs. He was brave enough to turn from the monolithic Empire when it most likely meant his death, just because it was the right thing to do. And despite all he’d been through, he still had enough of a heart to love Zeb without reserve. Maybe he’d only recently discovered that heart and didn’t know much what to do with it, but Zeb could help him there.

Zeb had lost everything before, too. It hadn’t been a choice, like Kallus had made, but he still knew how one’s whole galaxy was rocked by the loss. Just because Kallus had made it a year didn’t mean he’d dealt with everything.

He’d need to do that, probably soon. Zeb wanted to try and help. Wanted to see if maybe some of Agent Kallus’s confidence and surety could find a home in Captain Kallus. In Alexsandr.

Zeb kissed the top of Kallus’s head and let the human go – almost. He lingered before dropping Kallus’s hand. “I’m gonna go see Hera,” he said.

Kallus nodded curtly. “She needs you and Sabine.”

Zeb licked his lips, deciding if he wanted to say anything else, but the right words didn’t come to mind. “I’ll be back soon,” he said instead.

Ryder was leaving the cockpit as Zeb entered, the lasat stepping aside so that Ryder could climb down the ladder. When he made it into the cockpit, Hera was sitting in the pilot’s seat, hands dancing over the controls.

It was a familiar scene. Anytime something went wrong, Hera grounded herself with the _Ghost_. It was her home, her rock – the only thing more important to Hera than the ship had been Kanan.

Zeb slid into the seat behind her, patiently waiting to be acknowledged.

“What do you need, Zeb?” Hera asked after a bit. She sounded tired, weary down to her bones, and she probably was.

“Checking on you,” he said. 

“I’m fine.”

Zeb said nothing, despite Hera’s blatant lie.

Finally, Hera sighed. “I need to get off this planet,” she said. “Just for a bit.”

“Alone?” Zeb asked.

Hera nodded, chin tucked in close to her chest. “Just… leave it, Zeb.”

Zeb placed a hand on Hera’s tiny shoulder. “Hera, I get it. You know I get it. It’s okay to need to be alone. But don’t cut yourself off. You can be alone and still come back to us.”

She turned to him and he saw how red her eyes were, how close she was to tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t agree with you out there. Maybe we _can_ hold Lothal without the Rebellion, but I can’t–”

“Can’t what?”

Her hands balled up into fists. “I can’t lose the rest of you, too. Taking Lothal took two squadrons plus every ally we have in the galaxy and Kanan still died. Ezra still left. What if we have to face the Empire again just you, me, Sabine, and Kallus? What if you lose him like I–?”

Zeb held her gaze as he thought. “We’ve been blessed so far. It couldn’t last. And we might lose more, but believe me: all of us chose to be here, including you. If something happens, we’re fighting for what we believe in.”

“That doesn’t help,” Hera said, turning away again.

He knew it didn’t, but it was the truth. Zeb manhandled Hera’s chair until she was facing him and pulled her up and into a hug, her lissome form dwarfed by his arms. “Don’t give up, Hera. Come back to us. Promise me that.”

Zeb’s only answer was a nod.

He’d take it.

The _Ghost_ left before lunch, leaving Kallus, Zeb, and Sabine with full trunks of belongings, nowhere to put them, and a plethora of jobs to get done.

“I’m going back to the cadets,” announced Sabine. “Some of them are local, so we can get them home today.”

“Someone’s got to pick up rubble,” Zeb said. “Might as well be me.”

“I’ll help,” Kallus volunteered. He and Zeb had done that task together at the temple on Yavin; they ought to still be able to work well as a team. It was the most direct way to assist Lothal, as well, so it was his first choice.

Azadi shrugged, leaning against a speeder. “Might as well. I’m leaving the Imperials where they are until we hear from Hera.”

“Probably wise,” Kallus agreed.

It was agreed to start with the western residential areas. Kallus recognized the area. He hadn’t taken much time off as an Imperial officer but the one time he did – to recuperate after Bahryn and think hard about what Zeb had asked of him – had been spent in an Imperial-owned apartment a kilometer away.

The once pristine neighborhood was in shambles now, residents clawing their way through the rubble, trying to uncover belongings and reach trapped people.

One look around the street told Kallus that whatever the residents were doing wasn’t working. It was only a matter of time before someone pulled a piece of duracrete down on themselves or someone else.

“They need a leader,” he said, looking at Zeb.

Zeb looked back. “So take charge.”

“Oh no.” Kallus shook his head. “These people know me as an ISB agent. They’d probably prefer to bury me rather than listen to me. It has to be you.”

Zeb grunted, but he didn’t argue. He took a step into the street, drew himself up to full height, and bellowed, “Hey! C’mere! Let’s organize this!”

Kallus took a step back and watched, waiting to be given an assignment. Zeb was a natural at getting people to work together, but he knew that. He’d seen that the few times Zeb came by to teach his commandos some Honor Guard exercises.

_His commandos_. It’d only been a week, and he wasn’t second-guessing his choice to remain behind, but he found himself missing Yavin.

Kallus had built up a life for himself there, one that wasn’t dependent on anyone else. He had roommates that, while frustrating, were good men who cared about him. He had a unit that was as well-trained as any the Rebellion or Empire could field. He had _purpose_.

Had he lost purpose, staying on Lothal with Zeb? If they returned to the greater Rebellion, could he step back into that life and integrate Zeb – or would he have to choose?

“Kal!”

Zeb waved at him, then pointed to a particularly large bit of debris. “C’mon, we’ve got people trapped. Let’s get to it!”

Kallus nodded, pushing up his sleeves as he made his way over, aware that he was exposing his scars to the world, but getting to those trapped Lothalians was more important than his own comfort.

A man stepped in his way, short, gray haired, thin-faced, with a look full of fury. “You need to leave.”

“What?” Kallus asked, though he knew the reason as soon as he realized who the man was: Barret Samson, the Governor of Lothal back during the Republic. He’d survived by stepping down voluntarily so that Azadi could be installed as the system’s Moff.

Of course, considering Azadi’s loyalties, the Empire might as well have left Samson installed.

“Agent Kallus,” Samson said coolly, not at all intimidated. “What are you? A prisoner on work duty?”

“There a problem?” Zeb walked up, looking decidedly unpleasant.

“We don’t need help from this Imperial,” spat Samson.

“He’s not an Imperial!” Zeb said quickly, loud enough to be heard a block away. “He’s a Rebel like me. If you don’t want his help, you don’t want mine either.”

Samson remained unmoved. “That’s fine. Lothal doesn’t need help.”

Zeb laughed. “And I suppose you spent nearly twenty years under the Empire because you wanted to, right?”

Azadi stepped in then, stepping between Zeb and Samson. “Barret, look at the man’s arms.”

Kallus flushed but resisted the urge to hide his scars. He saw where Azadi was going.

“He was an ISB agent, yes, but I’ve seen this man fight against the Empire. And those scars prove he was tortured for making that choice.” Azadi spoke nearly as loudly as Zeb, sounding firm and trustworthy, just like he must have as a politician.

Zeb glared at Samson while they waited for his answer.

Samson spit on the dusty ground. “Rebel or not, a lot of Lothalians went missing because of him.”

“Perhaps it’s better if I don’t stay,” Kallus offered. “I can go elsewhere. Surely somewhere will want my help.”

“No,” argued Zeb. “You can stay or we can all leave.”

Kallus put a light hand on Zeb’s forearm. “It’ll be fine, Garazeb. I’ll go.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Zeb grumbled.

Humming a noncommittal noise, Kallus rubbed his thumb through Zeb’s fur. “It seems it’s for the best that I do. These people need your help more than they need mine.”

Kallus didn’t wait for Zeb to reply; the lasat would probably just continue to argue. Without a look back, Kallus left the area, keeping his posture straight and sure.

Where to go? Perhaps he could help Sabine. The cadets only stayed at the Lothal Academy for a year before moving on, so the current students wouldn’t remember him, at least not from the school. Perhaps someone was organizing housing for those who lost theirs and his logistical skills could help. Perhaps another neighborhood needed help digging out from the rubble.

Surely _someone_ on this planet would accept his help.

Zeb worked _hard_ all day, lifting rock, piling rubble out of the way, helping out trapped citizens, and sometimes finding the bodies of those that didn’t survive Thrawn’s destruction.

It was exhausting in a way work at the temple hadn’t ever been. There, at least, people weren’t waiting anxiously to find out if their loved ones and friends were dead or alive, crying out in joy or despair as the case might be.

Locals brought food for lunch and dinner, so their makeshift crew – Zeb, Ryder, and some of the other stronger beings – worked until night fell and streetlamps came on. Aching and sore, Zeb called it a day and instructed everyone to get rest.

They weren’t anywhere near done and locals begged him to continue into the night, but Zeb knew that wasn’t physically possible for him or anyone else helping out. In fact, he’d consider himself lucky if half his team showed up again tomorrow.

Saving people was hard work.

He trudged back to the spaceport, wondering where Kallus had gone, if Hera had made it back to Yavin IV yet, and most importantly, if they had a place to stay the night or if they were camping at the spaceport.

When Zeb got there, the spaceport was nearly empty. Their bags were gone and for a moment Zeb wondered if they’d been lifted, but then he spotted Kallus seated on a crate off to his right. Kallus’s long legs were crossed and his head leaned back against the wall. He looked like he was asleep.

“Alex?” Zeb said softly, after checking no one was around.

Kallus just breathed deeply, still dozing.

Zeb sat next to Kallus and slid and arm around the man’s waist, tugging him a little closer. The movement woke Kallus up.

“Garazeb!” he said, bleary eyes focusing on Zeb’s face.

Grinning, Zeb took the chance to kiss Kallus on the nose. “Are we sleepin’ here?”

Kallus sat up, stretching his legs out in front of him. “No, we all have beds. I got Sabine her own apartment, but you and I are sharing.” He paused. “Assuming that’s all right? There are two bedrooms. I thought we should share even if we’re in separate rooms because there are so many people needing housing at the moment. Possibly I should have invited Sabine–”

Zeb couldn’t help the tired smile as he interrupted Kallus. “No, you shouldn’t have invited Sabine. I hope one of those bedrooms is big enough for the both of us.” Kallus stood and faced Zeb, who took both the human’s hands in one of his. “How did we end up with a whole apartment?”

“The Empire,” Kallus said. “There are a number of Imperial-owned properties around this city, mostly used for officers’ berths when they were granted leave. I remembered the locations and access codes for most of them.”

Zeb’s eyes widened. “It’s been a year since you left the Empire and you _still_ remember the codes for housin’ I’m pretty positive you never used?”

Kallus looked past Zeb for a second. “My memory is still rather decent,” he said. “And I took leave once. I stayed at the apartment we’re using. I found that, after Bahryn, I needed some time to contemplate things. It let my leg heal properly, as well.”

With an aching groan, Zeb stood and wrapped Kallus into a hug. “I knew I got to you then.”

Zeb could hear Kallus’s smile in his voice. “You knew you got to me when I defected, you lout.”

“Well, that was a hint,” Zeb agreed. He held Kallus at arm’s length. “And you call your memory ‘decent’? Karabast, I’d call that incredible.”

“You look exhausted,” Kallus said, ignoring the compliment as usual. “Let’s get to the apartment.”

Zeb nodded and let Kallus take his hand and lead the way out of the spaceport and off to the southeast. “You must’ve been exhausted, too. What did you do all day?”

“Not nearly as much as you, I’m sure,” Kallus said. He didn’t elaborate.

Zeb stopped. “Alex. What happened?”

“Nothing I wasn’t expecting,” Kallus said, tugging at Zeb’s hand until they started walking again. “It’s fine, Garazeb, really.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

Kallus sighed and slowed a little bit. “Other people had the same sort of complaints about me as Samson did. My help wasn’t wanted most places around the city, at least until I found Sabine.”

Zeb knew his grip had tightened on Kallus’s hand, but he didn’t relax. “Don’t they know what you did for us?”

“No, they don’t,” Kallus pointed out. “Remember, the Empire didn’t advertise my defection; they said I’d been kidnapped by radicals. For all Lothal knows, I never changed. It’s fine. Once Sabine found me, we were able to work together and find families temporary housing in the Imperial apartments.”

“You were, huh?”

Kallus squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I was. I was able to help today, Garazeb. And I’m sure tomorrow, I’ll find something else to do. And something else after that, until either we leave or Lothal learns I’m not what I used to be.”

Zeb wasn’t entirely satisfied – he wanted Lothal to see the Kallus _he_ saw – but he held his tongue on the subject. “So where is this apartment?”

Kallus pointed down the street. “Three buildings up, on the left. It’s a fairly nice one. We’ll have to stock it with food ourselves, but maybe that’s something I can do tomorrow.”

“With what?” Zeb said. “Did Hera leave you some credits?”

“No,” Kallus admitted. “Sabine confiscated credits from the Imperial prisoners so we could buy food for dinner and we split what was left over.”

Zeb laughed. “The Empire providin’ me a place to live and food to eat and I’m not even a prisoner. A man could get used to that.”

Kallus flushed a little, red in the bright streetlights. “We agreed that either the Rebellion will take custody of the prisoners or they’ll be returned directly to the Empire; either way they won’t need the credits they were carrying.”

“I’m not fussin’,” Zeb said, still grinning. “I think it’s funny. ‘Bout time the Empire did somethin’ good.”

Kallus led the way into the building and tapped in a numerical code on one of the ground floor apartments. “3192,” he said quietly. “The year of the Emperor’s birth according to the Lothalian calendar.”

“Like I’ll remember that,” Zeb grumbled.

“You’ll learn it,” Kallus said, palming the light controls.

The apartment lit up partway, just enough that Zeb could see the main room but not bright enough to hurt his eyes. It was a plain room, a couch and viewscreen on the right, a table, chairs, and small kitchen to the left. In front of them, a hallway stretched out, ending in a doorway.

“Bedrooms back there,” Kallus said, gesturing down the hall. “There’s a small bathroom in the hall, but the big bedroom has its own.”

“Sonic big enough for me?” Zeb asked. A shower before bed sounded good.

Kallus nodded. “For the both of us.”

Zeb looked at Kallus, brows arched. “Y’know, we’re gonna test that out. Just not tonight.”

Gently pushing Zeb toward the bedroom, Kallus said, “Go get your shower – there’s a water option, too – and I’ll meet you in bed.”

Nodding gratefully, Zeb shed his armor there in the main room, dropping it on the couch. He examined the shower before turning it on. There _was_ a water option, just like Kallus had said, and as nice as that sounded, he wanted to collapse straight into bed after, not wait for his fur to dry.

The sonic was in good repair, better than the _Ghost_ ’s, and Zeb felt mostly clean within just a few minutes.

Knowing it was just Kallus out there, Zeb didn’t bother to wrap up in a towel. He stopped in the doorway, breath caught in his throat.

Kallus lay in the bed, blanket already turned down for Zeb, and the sight had caught Zeb off-guard.

He hadn’t gotten to see Kallus naked much in the light; most of their furtive trysts took place in the dark, lit only by the moon. But there he was, hands clasped over his head – almost as if he’d been cuffed to the bed – and nothing but a nearly see-through white sheet covering him from his hips down. Very little was left to the imagination, which was good, since Zeb’s brain had quit working. 

Kallus’s eyes went wide and he quickly covered himself more. “Sorry,” he said.

“What for?” Zeb asked, approaching the bed. It was large, but would still be crowded with two beings Zeb and Kallus’s size. “Lookin’ like that?”

Kallus crossed his arms across his stomach, covering the scars from Onderon.

Sighing, Zeb sat on the bed and carefully pried Kallus’s arms away from his body. He leaned down and kissed the scars, just as he had many times before. Claws lightly traced the lightning lines and other visible blemishes. “Alex. Alexsandr. Kal. Love. You’re _beautiful_ , scars an’ all.” He cupped Kallus’s face in one hand. “And if I hadn’t spent the day movin’ huge rocks around, I’d show you just how beautiful y’are. But I am _exhausted_ , so you’ll have to take my word for it.”

Kallus rolled on his side, but he didn’t try to hide himself again. Zeb took that as a win.

He slid into the bed and was disappointed to find his feet hung past the end. At least the blanket was large enough and if he got cold anyway, there was always a warm Kallus at his side.

Speaking of, that warm Kallus snuggled into his side. “I’m sorry the bed isn’t bigger,” he said. “It’s made for humans; it’s too short for me as well.”

“Kriff, my old gran couldn’t fit on here and she was only two meters tall,” Zeb complained.

Kallus rested his chin on Zeb’s chest. “Garazeb, _you’re_ two meters tall.”

“Two point one!” Zeb said indignantly.

Kallus buried his face in Zeb’s fur, laughing.

Zeb had to laugh, too. “Can’t help it that I’m the runt of my family.”

Kallus slowly stopped laughing, though giggles got him a time or two, and he kissed Zeb’s chest. “Someday, will you tell me about them? I understand if you don’t want to, but…” He bit his lip. “If you want to talk, I want to hear.”

Zeb’s breath caught again, for a very different reason. He’d trained himself _not_ to think about his family. His large and extensive family, of which he was the only one left.

Which the old Kallus had indirectly helped happen. The new Kallus, though–

“Yeah, love,” Zeb said, “whatever you want to know. After we get through this Lothal thing.”

Kallus nodded and Zeb idly stroked his back.

Just the day before, they’d fought for their lives and the lives of everyone in the Lothal sector. And now he was sharing a bed – a _bed_ , with a _mattress_ – with Alexsandr Kallus, the man he loved.

In his wildest dreams, Zeb never could have predicted ending up there. He was glad for that, a little. Surprise made the whole thing all that much sweeter.

He reached out and turned off the lamp, the only remaining light in the room a glow around the thick, floor-length curtains.

_Don’t get used to this_ , he reminded himself. _This is temporary. This is war. Making a home like this isn’t in our future._

_At least not yet._


	23. Chapter 23

Strangely, it was cold when Kallus awoke.

Strange, because it was high summer on Lothal. Strange, because he was in bed next to a living furnace. Strange, because he’d fallen asleep snuggled to that living furnace and covered in a blanket.

Not so strange, it turned out, because Zeb had stolen the blanket at some point during the night.

Kallus sat up and looked at his lover – _his partner, now_ – with some amusement. The lasat was bound so tightly in the blanket that Kallus wasn’t quite sure how he would get out.

Leaning down, Kallus kissed Zeb’s exposed cheek. “Garazeb, it’s time to wake up.”

Zeb made a disgruntled noise. “Jus’ got back to sleep,” he mumbled. “Leave me ‘lone.”

As tempted as he was to give in and curl up with Zeb for a few more hours, the chrono by the bed said it was already nearing the time he’d promised to meet up with Sabine. He began forcefully unwrapping Zeb from his blanket. “What do you mean, you just got back to sleep?” he asked, concerned.

Zeb rolled onto his back and looked up at Kallus. “Didja know you talk in your sleep?”

Kallus’s cheeks burned. “It happens on occasion. It’s not anything to be concerned over.”

“It concerned me when you started talkin’. You haven’t done that before.”

“Dare I ask what I talked about?” Kallus asked, even though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.

“Us.”

He’d been right. He hadn’t wanted to know. Speaking carefully, Kallus said, “Hopefully nothing worrisome.”

“Well, you were _kinda_ sappy,” Zeb said, grinning sleepily. “But it was like you were talkin’ to someone else and I wasn’t here.”

Kallus looked away. “I apologize for disturbing your sleep. I’m afraid I’ve never discovered how to stop it from happening.”

Zeb grunted. “Just caught me off-guard. Does it happen a lot?”

“According to my roommates back on Yavin, about once a week,” Kallus admitted sheepishly. _Perhaps now that I know how Garazeb feels, I will talk less. Or perhaps I’ll talk more because I’ll have new reasons to stress over Garazeb._

Zeb huffed, shutting his eyes again.

Suddenly indignant, Kallus said, “If it bothers you that much, I’ll sleep in the other bedroom. You can keep the blanket that way.”

It seemed to suddenly dawn on Zeb that he’d left Kallus with no covers during the night and his expression softened. He worked his way out of the blanket. “Oops. Didn’t mean to do that.”

Kallus sighed. “I don’t suppose we’ve ever slept like this before, so neither of us knew.”

“Like what?” Zeb asked.

“In a real bed, with a blanket big enough for us both,” Kallus explained. “You’ve given me your blanket before, but not used one yourself.”

“Yeah,” Zeb muttered. “I’ve only got the one blanket on the ship and you needed it more than me. No fur, y’know.”

“I _am_ aware of that fact,” Kallus said wryly. “I suppose we still have a lot to learn about living together.”

“Guess missions on the _Ghost_ didn’t count,” Zeb said.

“The conditions are quite different,” Kallus agreed. “I’ll take the blanket from the second bed tonight, but as for now, we have to get going, Garazeb.”

After short negotiations, Kallus took the bathroom first. When he walked in, he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in some disgust. Zeb’s things – clothes, grooming supplies, even his comlink – were strewn across the floor and counter.

It was unexpected; on the _Ghost_ , Ezra had been the messy one in Zeb’s cabin. Zeb took up only a portion of their living space and was neat.

Or so Kallus had thought. He hoped it was simply because Zeb had been tired the night before, but he feared Zeb was the type to spread out and inhabit all available space.

Pushing Zeb’s things aside, he started getting ready for the day.

Just as he was getting out of the shower, Zeb’s comlink beeped. Assuming it could only be one of their Rebel band that wouldn’t be surprised hearing his voice, Kallus answered it. “Hold on a moment, please. I’ll get Zeb.”

“ _Don’t worry about it_ ,” Sabine said, voice a little tinny. Was she in her helmet? “ _I wanted the both of you. Hera’s almost back. Change of plans: meet at the spaceport in half an hour_?”

_That was a quick trip_ , Kallus thought. _I honestly expected her to take longer._ “That will be fine,” he said. 

“ _Great. See you guys then_.”

With some encouragement, Kallus got Zeb dressed and into a speeder cab to make it to the spaceport. They arrived just in time to stand with Sabine, watching the _Ghost_ land lightly on its struts, its ramp lowering right away.

To Kallus’s surprise, there were passengers.

Cassian Andor stepped off first, followed by five other Intelligence agents.

“Kallus!” he said, walking up and shaking hands. 

Kallus nodded. He’d always liked the other Fulcrum agent. “Andor.”

“Glad you’re here. I’ve got a job for you.”

Inwardly, Kallus felt a rush of relief. He hadn’t known what he’d do that day or if he’d continue to get rebuffed by the people of Lothal.

Over Cassian’s shoulder, Kallus saw Hera disembark and immediately be greeted with hugs from Sabine and Zeb.

He smiled.

Andor smiled, too, something more amused than pleased. “So you and Captain Orrelios finally…?”

Kallus tried to scowl – Cassian didn’t need to know that – but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. “Tell me about this job.”

Cassian’s dark eyes crinkled with silent laughter. “Command wants to know if any of these officers you’ve captured want to defect. I figured you’d be the right one to talk to them, as a fellow defector.”

Kallus thought back to the obstinate group he’d seen two days earlier. “I’m not sure how much luck we’ll have, but I’m glad to help.”

Cassian nodded. “Glad to have you back. I still think you’re wasted in the commandos.”

An image of his commandos floating unbidden in his mind, Kallus laughed a little. “I still think you’re wrong, but both of us go where we’re told.”

“You’re _not_ wrong there.” 

“What are you doing with the prisoners who don’t defect?” Kallus asked.

Cassian shrugged. “The plan is to split ‘em up and imprison them with various cells, keep them from banding together again.”

Kallus nodded. That made sense, though he wondered if the various cells were really prepared for prisoners. It wasn’t his problem anymore, however.

Cassian looked back over his shoulder and motioned for the other Intelligence agents to follow him. “Show us where to go, Kallus.”

Kallus tried to catch Zeb’s eye to at least nod goodbye, but the lasat was too busy talking to Hera. “All right,” he said. “Follow me.”

Two days after Thrawn’s orbital bombardment, Capital City was already a completely different place. Most affected neighborhoods had organized somewhat and started rubble piles in the streets rather than in the remains of the buildings themselves. There was a lot left to do, but they were preparing for a construction droid to come in and recycle the building materials into something useful – if the antiquated droids left on Lothal by the Republic were up to the task.

Their entire walk, Kallus and the Rebels were subject to stares and mutterings. Kallus wondered if Cassian and the others were getting painted as ‘unwanted’ for associating with him.

Not that it mattered. Their job was not with Lothalian citizens, but the Imperial officers and stormtroopers still sitting in the city’s jail.

The jail cells were large enough for all the prisoners, just not comfortably so. They only had the meagerest of refresher facilities and not quite enough beds for everyone, leaving some to sleep on benches and the floor.

Since Kallus had seen them last, troopers had shed their armor and body gloves in the Lothal heat, and even the stiff-necked Imperial officers had taken off their tunics, leaving them in sleeveless undershirts.

He nodded at Cassian, who put on a stern face. “We’re Rebel Intelligence and we’ll be talking to each of you. You’ll have the chance to willingly talk and join us or, well, you won’t,” Cassian said, making it sound like a dire threat.

Kallus knew the Imperials were thinking the other alternative was death. Hopefully they’d be positively moved by the Rebellion’s more merciful stance and change their minds.

It wasn’t likely, he knew, but there _was_ a chance. After all, if _he_ could be convinced to defect, couldn’t anybody?

“If either of you asks if I’m okay, I’m kicking you off the _Ghost_ for good,” Hera threatened.

“Technically, we’re already off the _Ghost_ ,” Sabine pointed out.

Zeb grinned.

With an annoyed sigh, Hera nodded reluctant agreement. “Fine, I won’t let you _back_ on the _Ghost_. Better?”

“Much.” Sabine said. “I’m ready to move back in anytime you’ll let me.”

Zeb swallowed. He wanted to go home, yes, but… “I think me an’ Kal might stay where we are for a bit.”

Somehow, Sabine didn’t seem surprised. She turned to Hera, “Kallus has them an apartment together. Some old Imperial-owned room.”

“ _You_ stayed in one of those last night, too,” Zeb pointed out. “Anyway, it’s just until you need us, Hera.”

“Of course,” she said, giving Zeb a smile that was completely forced, if he was any judge. 

Hera _wasn’t_ okay, that much was obvious, but until she wanted help, there wasn’t much Zeb could do. A pang of guilt shot through him; _should_ he and Kallus move back into the _Ghost_? Was he being selfish wanting to enjoy a little bit of domesticity? Something like the life he might have had if the Empire hadn’t wiped out Lasan? 

“If you need us now…” he offered.

Sabine bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Stay with Kallus, big guy. I think Hera and I can hold down the _Ghost_.”

Zeb looked at Hera, who nodded.

“So what did I miss yesterday?” Hera asked, crossing her arms and becoming suddenly business-like.

“Zeb helped clear rubble–”

“There’s still a lot of that,” he interrupted.

“–and Kallus and I helped organize housing,” Sabine finished. “I think that’s done, but we need to make sure people have food.”

“Ah,” Hera said. “Just like the early days.”

“Except we’re not _dodging_ Kallus.”

Zeb frowned even though he knew it was true.

“Kallus has gone with Captain Andor and the Intelligence crew,” Hera said, nodding in the direction of the group walking off. “So it’s the three of us.”

Zeb hated that he’d missed Kallus leaving, but there was no time for regrets. “I, ah, think I’ll be helping move stuff today, too. It’s gonna be a long-term project gettin’ things ready for the droids an’ there’s not exactly a lotta big guys like me in town to do the heavy liftin’.”

“Of course,” Hera said. “Well, show me where we’re going, Sabine.”

Sabine waved for them to follow and set off down the streets. She headed in the same direction Zeb was going, so he fell in beside Hera.

There was an awkward silence; strange, he’d never felt this awkward with Hera before.

“You’ll be okay, just you and Sabine?” he blurted out.

Hera smiled sadly. “The _Ghost is_ too empty right now,” she admitted, “but don’t worry about us. Sabine and I will watch out for each other. We’ve done it before, you know.”

“An’ you almost got eaten by those things on that asteroid,” Zeb reminded her, pulling a slight grin out of Hera.

She ran her fingers up his bicep, ruffling the fur with a familiarity only family had. “We’ll be fine, Zeb.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I just–” Zeb sighed. “I jus’ worry about me an’ Kal. This is all real new.”

Hera laughed. “Are you going to pretend the two of you weren’t sleeping together months ago?”

“Heh,” Zeb laughed nervously. “That was different. This is real, I think. But I’m scared he’ll skitter off again ‘cause I said the wrong thing, even though we–”

Hera eyed him. “You what?”

The fur on Zeb’s neck ruffled. “We already said we love each other,” he confessed.

To his surprise, Hera smiled. “The rest of us could have told you that,” she said. “It’s been obvious watching you two moon over each other. You’ve got it bad for him.”

“I guess I do.” Zeb looked down and caught Hera’s eye. “I want to invite him to live on the _Ghost_ when all this is over, if it’s okay with you.”

“If I say no, will I lose you to him?” Hera asked.

“No!” Zeb protested. “I wasn’t sayin’ that. Jus’… I think maybe it’ll be easier to learn to live with each other in a bigger space rather than shovin’ us in a cabin together.” _And everything won’t remind me of Ezra._

Hera nodded. “Zeb, I’m not going to say Kallus can’t live with us, if that’s what you want. If he’s special to you, then Sabine and I need to make room for him in our lives too. That’s what family does.”

“Yeah,” Zeb said softly _._

He wrapped an arm around Hera’s shoulders and pulled her close for a moment as they walked.

Hera patted his hand. “I’m glad you’re still here, Zeb.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised. _I’ve gotta hold on to what family I have left. **That’s** what family does_.

“I’m no Rebel,” spat Nuessle.

Kallus pinched the bridge of his nose. Nuessle was the last – and the most hostile – of the officers they’d talked to all day. They’d had three agree to defect, but most – like Nuessle – held firm. 

Nuessle was testing his patience but he refused to let her jar him. “That’s what I would have said, too,” Kallus replied calmly. “But all I’m asking you to do is listen to me while I tell you what I learned about the Empire.”

She shook her head and strained against her binders. “That’s an act of disloyalty.”

Behind Nuessle, Cassian entered the room. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Kallus, who shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“It’s telling the truth.” Kallus turned on the small holoprojector at his side. Cassian had brought with him datacards with the information they had on various Imperial projects, conflicts, and massacres – much of which was information Kallus had brought with him in the first place.

Geonosis hung in the air between Kallus and Nuessle as Cassian moved to stand beside Kallus.

“This is where it started for me,” Kallus said. “Did you know almost the entire population of Geonosis was massacred? Do you know why?”

Nuessle looked away. “They were bugs. They were enemies of the Republic _and_ of the Empire.”

“No, they weren’t,” Kallus said. “They were aliens, yes, but they worked loyally for the Emperor on a secret project. Something huge. Something that couldn’t be talked about after it was moved from Geonosian space.”

“So?”

“So the Geonosians were massacred to keep the secret,” Cassian said. “Like Lasan. Like Batonn. Like Dhen-Moh. Like Ghorman.”

Nuessle shook her head. “Those planets were in open rebellion. That’s different.”

“ _How_ different?” Kallus asked, leaning down a little to catch Nuessle’s eyes. “I was on Lasan. We weren’t told it was going to be a genocide until it was too late to question orders. Imperial command _knew_ they wanted to kill all lasats; they just didn’t tell us because they knew our consciences would object.”

“And there were more civilians than resistance killed on Batonn. Your own Grand Admiral Thrawn saw to that,” Cassian added.

Nuessle said nothing.

“You don’t think it’s odd the Empire always resorts to violence to quell even the slightest of disagreements? That maybe the Empire needs to create its own enemies to justify its tyranny?”

Nuessle laughed. “You’re suggesting the Emperor _wants_ the Rebellion, Kallus? Is that why you defected? To give the Emperor what he _wants_?”

“Hardly.” Kallus leaned back against the desk, gripping the top edge tightly. “I merely asked myself these questions and followed them through to their logical conclusions. I stayed loyal to my own sense of honor.”

Cassian sat on the desk beside Kallus, crossing his arms. Kallus noted his feet didn’t quite meet the ground. “There are studies saying that the best way to ensure loyalty isn’t through violent measures.”

“Republic studies,” scoffed Nuessle.

“ _Scientific_ studies,” Cassian countered. He looked at Kallus. “Have you told her the alternative?”

Kallus nodded, prompting Cassian to continue.

“Your choices today are agreeing to help us and telling us everything you know before being welcomed into the Rebellion _or_ you can continue to be defiant, tell us what we want to know anyway, and then be locked in a cell for the rest of the war.” Cassian spoke slowly and clearly.

“I’ll take the cell and my honor,” Nuessle said, almost immediately.

Kallus shook his head. “Fine. But remember that it’s your choice to stay loyal to the Empire. Because of that, you play a tiny part in every atrocity the regime perpetrates.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And you didn’t?”

“I have,” Kallus said. “And I’ll be paying for that the rest of my life, but at least I’ve stopped making _more_ mistakes. I’ll die knowing I did what little I could to assist the people who truly want to help the galaxy. You could do the same. Your life doesn’t have to end in prison.”

The glare Nuessle gave him was answer enough.

Kallus sighed. “Andor, take her to be interrogated?”

Cassian walked over to Nuessle and jerked her to a standing position. With a hand on her shoulder, he walked her, binders and all, out of the room.

Kallus followed, walking slowly. Nuessle was the last of the officers he was to talk to and he wasn’t sure what Cassian had in store for him next.

Nothing, as it turned out. Cassian met him in the hall after delivering Nuessle to one of the Intelligence agents, dusting off his hands. “Thank you for your help, Kallus,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to whatever else you need to be doing. We’ve got things under control here.”

Kallus shook Cassian’s hand and left, not mentioning that he had nowhere else to be. He’d find something. He’d always find something.

His first stop was the square where Zeb had been working the day before. There was no sign of the lasat – and also no sign of Samson, thankfully. The largest pieces of rubble were piled in the street, and the residents of the area were picking out smaller pieces and personal items.

Kallus hailed one of the men working. “The lasat that was working here, do you know where he is?”

The man pointed off to the south with his chin. “Few streets over thataway.”

Looking around, Kallus realized there was still a lot to be done right there. “How can I help you?” he asked.

The man eyed him suspiciously. “You’re really a Rebel now?”

“I am,” Kallus said with a tired sigh. How many times would he answer that same question? “I’d like to help if you’ll let me.”

“What would really help would be getting one of the newer Imperial construction droids up here.”

_A construction droid_. Kallus knew there were a few on the plains, helping the Mining Guild crawlers extract valuable minerals, but they ought to have shut down when the Imperial Dome exploded and stopped sending them activation codes.

They were enormous things, powerful and dangerous. A construction droid had once gone rogue on Coruscant when Kallus was a child, its programming corrupted, and it had destroyed three blocks of buildings, about fifty levels’ worth of damage and devastation.

But Kallus knew the codes, didn’t he? And he could program droids. It wasn’t a skill he’d ever used much, but it was a childhood interest he’d honed in the ISB. It had let him reprogram Thrawn’s assassin droids quickly and effectively that time Ezra tried to extract him.

Kallus nodded. “I think I can do that,” he said, and went in search of a speeder. 

It took him a bit, but he found an Imperial speeder still in the school facility and managed to find the keycard for it. He drove it to the edge of town and scanned the formerly grassy plains.

He knew which rock formation housed Azadi’s Rebels. He knew which one they’d staged from the other day.

He wasn’t sure which bump on the horizon was a construction droid, however. Kallus dug in the speeder’s console and found a pair of macrobinoculars. He looked again and _finally_ saw the tall, thin shape of a construction droid.

It took him a good hour to get out there and another half hour to find the droid’s access panel. Briefly, he wished he’d stopped at the _Ghost_ and borrowed Chopper; the astromech could talk to the droid more easily than he could.

But Kallus didn’t have Chopper with him. All he had were his own programming skills. He pulled a chair up to the access panel and sat there all afternoon, typing on a datapad and muttering to himself. He checked and double-checked his code, ran tests, and finally, _finally_ , he felt safe activating the droid.

He slid into the controller’s seat and punched in the Imperial codes to bring the droid to life.

It lit up around him, the droid shuddering as it woke from its standby state. Kallus watched the console in front of him, holding his breath until the prompt flashed and beeped.

_ICD UNIT 6713: NO ASSIGNMENT. WAITING FOR INSTRUCTION._

Kallus sighed in relief. “All right, Unit 6713,” he said as he typed in directions to Capital City. “Let’s get you back to your original purpose.”

_UNIT 6713 WILL CONSTRUCT AGAIN? NOT DESTROY?_

“I didn’t realize you had audio input,” Kallus mused. “Yes, I’m taking you back to the city. You’ll rebuild damaged homes and other buildings. No more scouring for minerals.”

_UNIT 6713 IS HAPPY TO REBUILD._

“You’re to go to the city limits,” Kallus instructed. It would take the droid almost all night to make the trip; he would go ahead in the speeder and meet up with the droid later. “Wait there for me in the morning. Don’t let anyone who doesn’t know the codes start you up. We’ll work together after I sleep.”

_YES, ORGANIC BEINGS MUST SLEEP._

Kallus smiled and patted the console. “Good. Unit 6713, you and I are going to try to help a lot of people.”

When Zeb trudged back to the apartment that night, Kallus was already there, crashed on the couch.

“Hey,” he said gently, running his claws through Kallus’s beard, “thought I was supposed to be the tired one tonight.”

Kallus blinked awake, smiling when he focused on Zeb’s face. “Garazeb,” he sighed, pressing his cheek into Zeb’s hand.

Zeb leaned over a bit more and kissed Kallus’s forehead. “Get up for a bit, Alex,” he said. “I haven’t eaten dinner yet. Do we have anything or do we need to go back out?”

Kallus sat up. “I haven’t eaten either, but I did go to the store and buy a few things. Check the freezer.”

Zeb followed instructions and looked in the refrigeration unit – twice the size of the _Ghost_ ’s, but mostly empty. All he saw were some frozen premade meals.

His stomach dropped a little. He could tell Kallus had tried to pick out meals to fit a lasat’s palate, but… “You didn’t get anything to cook from scratch?” he asked.

“No,” said Kallus, coming up behind him. “I know you usually do that on the _Ghost_ , but I didn’t think you’d want to have to cook yourself after working all day.”

Zeb looked at his partner questioningly, a sudden realization coming to him. “You don’t cook?”

Kallus’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a gaping goldie fish. “I can’t,” he admitted. “Never had to, so I never learned.”

Zeb made a surprised noise. “Didn’t teach you _that_ in the ISB, huh?”

“No,” Kallus said, sounding tired again. “They didn’t.”

“Karabast,” Zeb backtracked immediately. “Didn’t mean that badly. Just… you know so much _about_ food, I thought you’d know how to cook it.”

“If you need an analysis of a dish’s origin or a wine’s grape variety, I’m your former agent,” Kallus said drily. “But I can’t cook myself.”

“Okay.” Zeb thought quickly. “I’m gonna teach you.”

Kallus quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to do that? You’re doing so much already.”

Zeb smiled. “Gives me an excuse to see you more than at night,” he said. “I can live with that, if you can.”

Expression softening again, Kallus nodded. “I can. But you _cannot_ make fun of my mistakes.”

“I make no promises.” Zeb pulled out a meal and started preheating the oven.

“ _Garazeb…_ ”

Zeb laughed. “Look, I’ll tease ya less than Sabine or Ez– or Chopper would.”

Kallus placed a hand on Zeb’s back. “If you want to teach me, I’ll be happy to learn.”

Zeb reached around and pulled Kallus into a hug, grateful he hadn’t pressed about his slip with Ezra’s name. He cupped the back of Kallus’s head, loose blond hair falling around his fingers. “Hey. I _always_ want to spend time with you, Alexsandr. I love you, remember?”

“Love doesn’t imply liking,” Kallus said matter-of-factly.

Zeb _hmph_ ed. “Someone taught you all wrong about this stuff. Seem to recall you said something similar about friendship. Yes, it implies liking. _I_ _like to be with you_.”

Kallus said nothing, but he squeezed Zeb a little tighter.

Zeb glanced over at the oven. “Food’s got an hour and a half to cook. Whaddaya wanna do while we wait?”

He’d expected some answer like going for a walk, or watching the Imperial broadcast to see if they were saying anything about Lothal, but instead Kallus asked, “Are you as tired as you were yesterday?”

Zeb chuckled. “Almost. But I won’t fall asleep as soon as I hit the bed this time.”

“Good.” Kallus pulled away and held Zeb’s hand, leading him back to the bedroom.

The bed had been made since Zeb left that morning, with a second blanket folded neatly at the bottom.

It contrasted a little unpleasantly with the slight mess around his trunk. _I’ll clean up at some point_ …

Kallus tugged at Zeb’s armor, deftly finding the hidden latches.

“Are we testin’ out the shower?” Zeb asked. “Dunno if I got the energy for anythin’ _excitin_ ’ like that.”

“We’ll shower after,” Kallus promised. “But I want you, Garazeb Orrelios. I’ve had a day of talking to Imperials and Imperial droids and I want to feel like a Rebel again. I want to feel you inside me again.”

Zeb’s eyes widened. “Think I can do that,” he said, running a hand through Kallus’s hair while Kallus continued to strip him of his armor and his jumpsuit.

Once they were both undressed, Zeb let Kallus push him back on the bed and take charge.

Kriff, it was hot watching Kallus like that. Sure, Zeb loved it when Kallus was gentle like he’d been the day before – and he’d often say he preferred that – but it was also true that watching Kallus channel that authoritative spirit was, well, _inspiring_ , to say the least.

And inspiring it was, letting Kallus take charge – and watching him let go of that careful control.

Zeb was proud to say Kallus made actual sound that time.

No one would fuss if he claimed that as a personal win, right?

The oven hadn’t beeped at them yet, so they lay in the bed together, Kallus half atop Zeb.

The human stretched languidly. “I might go so far as to say that was better than yesterday.”

Zeb huffed a laugh and pushed some hair out of Kallus’s face. “It was, if only for that noise you made when I–”

“Shush,” Kallus instructed, flushing in embarrassment.

“I _liked_ it, Alex,” Zeb said. “I like to hear you. You’re so quiet, like you don’t think you get to enjoy yourself. The entire time we were doing this before, I kept trying to find _something_ to make you at least say my name.”

“Your name?” Kallus leaned down to Zeb’s ear and whispered, “ _Garazeb_.” 

He spoke with care and rolled the ‘r’ for just a little longer than normal and it sent chills down Zeb’s back.

“Yeah. Like that,” he said. “‘Cept louder. Let the whole damn planet know I’m inside you and you like it.”

“I don’t know about the whole planet,” Kallus said, “but if you wish, I’ll endeavor to be louder for you.”

Zeb pulled Kallus in close. “Alex, I want you to be as loud as _you_ want to be. I’m just tellin’ you it does things for me when you say stuff out loud. Lets me know I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

Running his fingers through Zeb’s chest fur, Kallus smiled. “Garazeb, you’re doing _everything_ right. It’s I who has to make up for wrongs.”

Zeb decided not to comment on that statement; no sense making Kallus think about such things. Except… “Funny how we’ve always danced around Lothal. You came here to track us and we first fought here.”

“And it was here that we finally stopped dancing. We finally made love,” Kallus said softly. “I never would have believed it that first fight.”

Zeb laughed, jostling Kallus. “Come on, Alex, you have to admit, ‘Face me!’ was not your best pickup line.”

“As if I’d’ve had you then. I had standards once, you know.” Kallus smirked, a small thing that reflected the adoration and amusement in his eyes.

Zeb smiled back. “Well, I’m glad you lowered your standards for me.”

Kallus pressed a kiss to Zeb’s temple. “I think you lowered your standards more than I did.”

“Nah.” Zeb closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Kallus and their coupling. “I raised mine and got the love of my life.”

For once, Kallus didn’t seem to have anything to say.

The Unit 6713 construction droid waited for Kallus at the edge of Capital City the next morning, a crowd already milling around it.

“Excuse me,” Kallus said, more than a few times. “I need to get through.”

To his dismay, Samson was standing by the hatch to enter the droid.

“Should have known it was you,” the former governor said.

Kallus tried not to let his dampened mood show on his face. “I had the activation codes,” he explained, keeping things simple.

Samson laughed. “Did you know them ‘cause you’re still an Imp or did you beat them out of someone who was?”

Feeling his cheeks flush with anger, Kallus bit back a smart remark. “I have a good head for codes,” he said. “That’s how a lot of your displaced people have housing at the moment.”

“Maybe,” Samson allowed, but his expression said he still didn’t trust Kallus.

Kallus put his hand on the droid. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, Samson, and I honestly cannot blame you. But I _am_ trying to help. This droid and I will start rebuilding today if you’ll let us by.”

Samson stared at him, unrelenting.

Not wanting to fight, Kallus made another attempt to pacify. “If you don’t trust me to do even that, you’re welcome to join me in the droid’s cabin.”

“Only if you give up your blaster,” Samson said. “I want to know I’ll leave this droid still alive at the end of the day.

Kallus agreed. _It’s not like I don’t know ten other ways to kill or disable him if I wanted. But really, I probably am more at risk from him than he is from me._

Weaponless, he opened the droid and climbed the ladder to its control center. He sat down at the console and ran his hands lightly over the controls. “Good morning, Unit 6713,” he said, entering the correct wakeup code.

_GOOD MORNING, ORGANIC BEING._

Kallus smiled, small and tight, amusement tempered by Samson’s presence. “You can call me Kallus,” he said. “And the other organic being with me is Samson.”

Samson sat at the other set of controls. “Hello, droid,” he said.

Nodding once in approval – not all beings respected droids – Kallus decided to make another peace offering. “If you like, I’ll teach you how to control this droid and then we can get a second one up and running, as well.”

Seemingly surprised, Samson accepted. “You know where a second one is?”

UNIT 6713 KNOWS WHERE ALL OTHER LOTHAL UNITS ARE. UNIT 6713 CAN SEND ACTIVATION CODES AND COORDINATES.

Kallus nodded again. “There. The droid will bring the others to us. Soon you’ll have an army of them.” He gestured to the console. “The controls are fairly rudimentary and standard across all large Imperial droids. If you’re familiar with any…?”

After a few minutes’ orientation, Kallus had Samson use the droid’s loudspeaker to scatter the watching crowd so that he could move the droid forward.

Construction droids – at least the ones fashioned for non-ecumenopolis planets like Lothal – were two standard stories tall and the width of a standard street, with expansions struts that could both raise and widen it. They moved slowly, eating up whatever resources were in front of them and fashioning them into fully formed buildings as they passed. Kallus had never driven one before, though he had _studied_ their use in the ISB on the minuscule chance Rebels would try to use one against an Imperial-held building.

Or so he’d justified it to himself and his superiors. In reality, Kallus had simply been curious. Curiosity, while vital to his job – imagination being the key to thinking one step ahead of his enemies – was not encouraged in off-times, so all of Kallus’s idle wonderings had to be justified as relevant to his work.

Those idle wonderings were paying off. It took the better part of an hour, but Kallus navigated the droid through the town and to the first of the rubble piles.

With Samson staring over his shoulder, Kallus programmed the droid to recycle the debris.

Once Unit 6713 had been given its task, Kallus turned his attention back to Samson. “Can you find the owners or residents of these buildings? I’d like to be sure I program this unit to rebuild exactly as they were.”

Samson frowned. “This unit is quite slow,” he said, as the droid moved forward by centimeters.

“You want them that way,” Kallus said. “Makes the structures stronger if greater care has been taken.”

Kallus had thought Samson might leave the droid for a bit, but instead he used a comlink to talk to a compatriot in the crowd who summoned the building tenants.

_I guess he doesn’t trust me even that much_ , Kallus thought grimly. _I can’t say I honestly blame him._

With the help of the tenants, Kallus programmed in a holo model of what the building ought to look like and put the repairs in the droid’s list of commands.

And then there was nothing to do but wait for the droid to work.

It was slow and tedious and soon the crowd dispersed, including the building tenants. Kallus amused himself by walking Samson through operating the droid. The man listened attentively, but Kallus never got the idea that he let his guard down.

“Ideally,” Kallus said halfway through the day as the droid reshaped itself to accommodate the two-story building, “you’ll be able to train people to run all the droids that show up.”

“How many are there?”

“ _That_ , I don’t know,” Kallus admitted. “But hopefully enough to repair the city and clean up all the debris. These are newer droids, so you can use them to replace the Republic-era ones I know Lothal still has.”

Samson nodded, crossing his arms. “And what about the debris around the city?”

Kallus bit his lip. That debris – the burnt remains of the Imperial Dome – was scattered across the plains to the west of town. Much of the Dome had disintegrated either in the atmosphere or against the city shield, leaving an ashy film covering everything, and the pieces that hadn’t burned up were fairly small.

The self-destruct had been quite thorough.

“I suppose you could use a droid to gather that, if you don’t want to use people,” Kallus said.

“The droids still in the facility?”

Kallus thought for a moment. There _would_ be a number of Imperial droids still in the school and factory. Manufacturers, culinary droids, sentries: droids did any number of a dozen jobs in Imperial facilities. “I can reprogram most of those,” Kallus said. “It should be fairly simple to ask them to help with the cleanup.”

He might not even need to reprogram: many droids were repurposed from the Clone Wars and bitter about it, like that droid Chopper was friends with, AP-5. Kallus might only need to remove restraining bolts to find willing workers.

“If you’d like,” he offered. “I can leave you to oversee this unit and go start deprogramming the other droids.”

Samson gave him a disdainful look, which Kallus interpreted as a yes. Samson hadn’t made a single effort all day to apologize for his earlier behavior and Kallus certainly wasn’t going to try and ingratiate himself. Staying to oversee Unit 6713 was somewhat useless – the droid had performed perfectly so far – and he _could_ do more good elsewhere.

“I’ll be leaving then,” he said, standing and offering Samson the helm. “I’ll come back at the end of the day to shut the unit down.”

“I can handle that,” Samson said.

“I have the codes,” Kallus said. It was petty, but it was the only leverage he had to make himself necessary. After a cursory farewell to the droid, Kallus made his way down the side of the droid and to the street.

Where the Dome had sat was nothing but a deep pit now, with deeper holes dug for all the antennae the occupation vehicle masquerading as a building had sported. Kallus didn’t dare try to cross the pit to the remaining facilities; there was no guarantee he’d be able to climb out successfully.

After navigating around the pit, Kallus came to a hangar. Slumped against the walls were DT- and KX-series sentry droids and Treadwell maintenance droids among others, all victims of the same shutdown order as Unit 6713. MSE droids lay scattered across the floor, no longer skittering underfoot.

Wishing Zeb and his stronger arms were with him, Kallus began collecting the droids in a back corner.

He started with the sentry droids, blanking their programming before he took off their restraining bolts. As quickly as he’d reprogrammed Thrawn’s sparring droids, he shut off their defensive modes, effectively turning them into blank slates.

Each droid was carefully brought back online, one by one. Each droid was meticulously reprogrammed to help the cleanup effort. And each droid was set loose by Kallus into the city to help where they could.

He sent some to collect the other droids in the remaining facilities. Some inventoried the supplies left behind by the Imperials. Some went to the outskirts of town and gathered the remaining Dome shrapnel. Some went to help pick up rubble inside of town.

And some, Kallus set aside for the Rebellion’s use, to send back with Cassian’s team in the next few days: astromechs and other droids that might be useful. The KZ- and DT-models might be used for infiltrating Imperial bases, Kallus thought. They could also be programmed to protect Rebellion leaders, giving the Council a little bit more security.

Kallus was deep inside an R4 astromech, manually programming it to respond to his verbal commands, when a large shadow passed over him. Someone was in the hangar with him and it wasn’t a droid.

Without looking up, Kallus said, “I’ll be done in a minute, Garazeb.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” said Ryder Azadi, standing between Kallus and what he finally registered to be the setting sun. “I thought I’d find you here still.”

Kallus blinked, refocusing on Azadi instead of his datapad. “What time is it?”

Azadi gestured out the hangar door. “Almost sunset. We were expecting you back an hour ago. Zeb won’t let any of us eat until you get there.”

“And he sent _you_ to find me?” Kallus found that a little odd.

“No, he’s looking for you in the square with your construction droid,” Azadi explained. “Or was, until I commed him that I’d found you.”

“Karabast,” Kallus muttered, getting stiffly to his feet, wiping his greasy hands on his pants. “I said I’d be there to shut that droid down.”

“Don’t worry. It’s in standby mode even without you. Helpful droid.” Azadi held out a comlink. “Better say something to Zeb before he pulls out all his fur.”

Kallus took the comlink gingerly, checking the frequency. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was already dialed into Zeb’s comm. He flicked the switch, closing his eyes to picture his love as he spoke. “Garazeb?”

“ _There ya are_!” Zeb sounded relieved. “ _Been waitin’ on you. Get on back to the Ghost so we can eat_.”

Kallus shook his head slightly. “Go ahead without me,” he said. “I’ll be back when I finish up here.”

Azadi snorted and Zeb must have heard it, because he said, “ _How much do you have left_?”

Kallus looked at the long line of droids slumped against the hangar wall. Every time he thought he was making progress, more droids showed up. Sighing, he admitted, “Too much.”

Zeb sighed. “ _Kal, come on. We all gotta eat and you gotta stop sometime._ ”

He had a point. “I’ll see you there,” he agreed, thumbing off the comlink.

Azadi took it back, looking annoyingly smug.

Kallus rolled his eyes and took off without waiting for Azadi to follow.

They ran into Zeb just outside of the spaceport. The lasat held out a hand for Kallus and after a moment’s hesitation, he took it.

Zeb gave his hand a squeeze, but didn’t let go as Kallus thought he would. Instead, he entwined their fingers. Kallus was surprised at how well they fit together, despite the size difference.

Holding hands, they walked into the _Ghost_. From the railing above, Hera smiled at them. “Hear you’re helping us cook tonight, Kallus.”

Kallus looked at Zeb, alarmed. “You don’t mean that.”

Zeb motioned for Kallus to precede him up the ladder. “Toldja I’d teach you to cook.”

“Would it be possible for me to simply watch tonight?”

“Nah,” Zeb said. “Practical experience is best. You know that.”

Kallus gulped.

Zeb was proud of his lover.

For a lot of things, really, but at this moment, he was watching Kallus deftly chopping jogan. It’d only taken him a week to develop considerable knife skills that didn’t involve drawing blood.

Then again, perhaps it was his familiarity with the latter that let him excel at the former.

Eh, it didn’t matter _why_ Kallus was good, just that he _was_.

And for the last couple days, Kallus had not only been good, but he’d been _happy_. Word of his self-appointed task of caring for the Imperial droids had made its way around Capital City and citizens had begun to bring him _their_ droids that needed repair. They even insisted upon paying him in barter, mostly with food, since he wouldn’t accept credits.

Zeb had argued a bit with him over that – credits were scarce in the Rebellion and could help buy a lot of necessary goods – but Kallus stubbornly refused. His work wasn’t worth credits, he claimed. He’d do it for free but they used most of the food – fruit, mostly, and lots of it – and donated what they wouldn’t eat themselves.

And so here Zeb was, watching Kallus prep a jogan syrup to go with waffles. An easy dinner, sweet and delicious, and perfect for Kallus’s first meal by himself.

Kallus reached for a third jogan and Zeb cleared his throat. “It’s just the two of us, y’know. That’ll be plenty of syrup already.”

“Oh.” Kallus dropped his hand and looked up, his golden brown eyes catching the kitchen lights. “So it’s ready for the sugar?”

“Sugar and then put it on the stove,” Zeb said. “You got this.”

Once the syrup was cooking, Kallus alternated between preparing the waffle batter and stirring the syrup as the fruit broke down even further. Soon, the apartment smelled of sweet jogan fruit and cooking waffles.

And if Zeb closed his eyes, he could hear Ezra laughing as he snagged waffles off of Zeb’s plate. He could see the soft smile Kanan wore while he watched Hera eat – even after he’d been blinded, he still looked at Hera with adoration. Sabine would sit and watch everyone’s antics with amusement, the whole while stealing waffles out from under Ezra’s nose.

It hit him – _really hit him_ – that he’d lost a second family. 

Zeb almost doubled over in pain, his heart ached so much.

Sure, he still had Hera and Sabine, but Sabine would go back to Krownest and Mandalore soon enough and Hera… Zeb knew she was committed to the Rebellion, but she might be lost in other ways.

He’d done it all before. Only his grandmother had survived Lasan and while they’d mourned together in her last days, she still left Zeb alone in the galaxy, half-convinced he was the last lasat.

And he had been alone, even after Kanan and Hera got him out of that terrible place – mentally _and_ physically – up until they met Gron and Chava. Up until they discovered Lira San.

More than anything, Zeb wanted to share the secret of Lira San with Kallus, to let Kallus know that there was still a planet in the galaxy where lasat thrived. That while Lasan was an atrocity of the highest order, the Empire hadn’t wiped out the lasat. But Hera had told him to keep the secret and Kallus himself had said not to tell him where they took the refugees, and so Zeb held his tongue.

“Garazeb?”

He looked up into Kallus’s worried face. The human sat down the spoon he’d been using and ran slightly sticky hands down Zeb’s arms.

“Garazeb, what is it?”

Zeb shook his head. “Nothin’,” he said gruffly. “You’re doin’ good.”

“But you aren’t,” Kallus said.

Damn the man’s keen eye.

For a moment, Zeb considered telling Kallus everything that was on his heart. That’s what lovers did, wasn’t it?

But what Zeb carried was too heavy, especially when Kallus already carried his own guilt. If Zeb told Kallus what he’d been thinking – about losing both families – then Kallus would feel responsible.

And Zeb didn’t want that.

“I will be,” he lied. “Just cook.”

Eying him distrustfully, Kallus turned back to the stove.

The waffles and syrup were delicious, but Zeb didn’t taste them.

Later that night, lying in bed while Kallus slept beside him, Zeb stared at the ceiling. It was off-white, the rough texture of droid-mixed duracrete, a common sight in urban housing there in the Outer Rim. It was a far cry from the smooth steel of his cabin on the _Ghost_.

A feeling of displacement washed over him. He shouldn’t be there, in an apartment with Kallus. He ought to be on the _Ghost_ , with his family. The urge to move was strong enough he almost snuck out of bed and back to the spaceport.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with Kallus. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying this small bit of domesticity they’d carved out for themselves. It wasn’t even the constant pervading fear that he’d look up and see that the Empire had returned.

It was loneliness. A pure, profound loneliness that crushed his chest and made it hard to breathe. Everything he’d ever had, he’d lost. And everything that he’d built again was almost lost. Opening himself up a second time had been hard enough; he couldn’t fathom doing it a third time.

Especially not if he was going to lose all that, too. Lose Kallus, lose this little life they had, lose Hera and Sabine – to the war effort if not to the war itself.

_No!_ Zeb thought. _I can’t. I won’t. It’ll kill me._

He reached out and grasped Kallus’s arm as the human slept, just to reassure himself that Kallus was still there, still alive.

Still, even knowing that his lover was lying next to him in practically perfect health, Zeb couldn’t help but worry.

He shut his eyes and tears leaked out the sides.

At first, Kallus didn’t notice anything wrong. Zeb was a little distant, but so was he. They were both working hard: Kallus repairing Capital City’s droid population and Zeb in other Lothalian cities, helping them de-Imperialify. 

They lived together mostly peacefully; there was still some contention over Zeb’s ability to spread out and take up every inch of free space in their quarters, but Kallus had managed to eke out a few areas for himself. He’d managed to get used to Zeb’s snoring and Zeb had quit complaining about his sleep-talking.

Overall, Kallus had thought they were headed in a good direction, until he noticed that he was doing most of the talking, that Zeb had a tinge of regret in his voice when he did speak, that Zeb’s eagerness to make love had flagged.

When he thought about it, he pinpointed the night he made waffles as the night things changed. At first, Kallus wondered if it was as simple as poor culinary skills that Zeb was loath to tease him for, but the lasat had teased plenty before then.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Zeb was simply starting to mourn the losses of Kanan and Ezra, especially with Hera and Sabine returned to Yavin with the Intelligence crew and Imperial prisoners. 

But then again, there was still the distinct possibility that Zeb had, well, ‘buyer’s remorse’ when it came to Kallus.

Perhaps Kallus was too uptight. Perhaps he was too needy. Perhaps he wasn’t good enough in bed. Perhaps…

Perhaps any number of reasons. There certainly were plenty of options when it came to regretting a relationship with Kallus. Zeb was simply too honorable to drop Kallus without warning.

If only _Kallus_ were honorable enough to do the right thing and let Zeb go.


	24. Chapter 24

The day Sabine left was a sad one, but one Zeb had known was coming. Eventually, she would want to get back to her blood family and the civil war on Mandalore.

The night before she left, she and Zeb had sat outside the _Ghost_ talking. Hera had been inside the ship, pretending she wasn’t about to have to say goodbye again, and Kallus had been… somewhere.

“Am I doing the right thing?” Sabine asked suddenly.

The question caught Zeb off guard. “Whaddaya mean?”

Sabine sighed and tossed her hair out of her face. She had recently dyed it orange and red, with white tips, making it look like a flame on her head. Zeb found it fitting. “I mean, Ezra told me he was counting on me, but I still don’t know what for. Should I stay on Lothal?”

“It’s been a month,” Zeb reasoned. “If the Empire was going to attack us, they’d have done so already.” Unspoken between them was ‘ _and I thought Ezra would be back by now, too_.’

“Unless they’re waiting for us to leave Lothal undefended.” Sabine shrugged, hugging her knees to her chest.

Zeb placed a hand on her back. She was pretty much fully grown now, or so he thought – human biology was not his specialty – but his hand still dwarfed her. “I don’t think we’re _that_ much of a threat. Since Thrawn failed with all his strategizin’, I think they’d just send in a huge force and overwhelm us.”

“You’re not helping,” she complained, shooting Zeb an off-kilter grin.

He rubbed her back gently. In his heart, Zeb wanted to tell her to stay, to never leave the _Ghost_ , but… “You’re doin’ the right thing,” he said. “Your family needs someone smart like you to show ‘em what to do. And who’s gonna blow up the Imps on Mandalore if you’re not there?”

Sabine managed a smile. “Karking straight.”

“Hey, where’d you hear that kind of language?” Zeb asked, lightly cuffing the back of her head.

“Where do you think?” Sabine teased.

“From me, probably.”

Zeb looked up to see Kallus walking up, emerging from the evening shadows. “Then watch your mouth around the kids, Kal,” he chided, grinning.

“I’ll endeavor to.” Kallus sat down next to Zeb, landing heavily on the _Ghost_ ’s ramp. “You will be missed, Sabine. Perhaps by the time you return, I’ll have proved my trustworthiness.”

At first, Zeb frowned, but he noticed both Kallus and Sabine’s soft smiles. _Oh. They actually have an inside joke. I… didn’t expect that._

“I’ll let you know, _Kal_ ,” Sabine said, leaning forward to see Kallus. “Take care of Zeb for me, will you?”

“I can’t promise he’ll listen to me,” Kallus said, straight-faced. “He _is_ prone to all sorts of trouble on his own.”

“I’m right here,” Zeb fussed.

Kallus leaned against him and it was nice, Zeb thought. It’d been a while since they just sat and enjoyed the night together.

Karabast, it’d been a while since they’d done much but sleep together.

Zeb snuck his arms around both Kallus and Sabine, holding them close.

Soft footsteps sounded behind them and Zeb got a soft whiff of Hera’s scent. Since Kanan’s death, it’d changed oh-so-slightly, but he attributed that to grief.

“Hello, Hera,” Sabine said, turning to look over her shoulder.

“Good, you’re all here,” Hera said.

Zeb frowned. There was a slight tremor in Hera’s voice that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “You okay?” he asked.

“I am,” Hera said, sitting on the other side of Sabine, taking up the last free bit of ramp. Behind them, Chopper whined from the hold. The droid rolled down the ramp and bumped Hera’s back, prompting her to reach back and pat his dome.

There was silence for a moment, a heavy pause that told Zeb something important was coming.

“I’m pregnant.”

Hera spoke quickly, looking up into the night instead of at her companions.

Whatever Zeb had expected, it hadn’t been _that_.

“What?” Sabine blurted out. “Really?”

Zeb wasn’t sure what to say. There wasn’t any need to ask who the father was and in the circumstances, congratulations didn’t quite seem appropriate. “Did he know?” Zeb asked instead, aware he might be saying the wrong thing.

Hera shook her head. “No. I didn’t know until a week ago.”

Zeb felt a chill run through him, sadness threatening to wash over him. _Kanan would have been so happy to have a kit_ , he thought. _Maybe if he’s ‘one with the Force’ or whatever, he knows._

“Twi’lek-human hybrids are usually healthy, aren’t they?” Kallus asked.

Zeb shot him a look. He hadn’t even _considered_ that; he didn’t _want_ to consider that.

Hera nodded. “There are more of them than you’d think. Usually they look like one or the other, though.”

Zeb stretched his arm out to encompass Hera as well. “New life is always a good thing,” he stated firmly. “On Lasan, kits are seen as gifts from the Ashla.” _This one might really be_. _It must have happened not long before Kanan died_.

“Will you be retiring?” Sabine asked, sounding skeptical. 

Zeb got that. The idea of Hera quitting for any reason was unfathomable.

“No,” Hera said, confirming Zeb’s thought. “Not now. Not when we’ve come so far.”

 _Not when we’ve lost so much_ , Zeb added.

“The _Ghost_ still has a lot of fight left in her and so do I.” Hera ducked her head, looking a little concerned. “But I’ll need help.”

“Of course,” said Kallus. Zeb hugged him a little tighter.

“Say the word and I’ll stay,” Sabine offered.

“I’m not out of commission yet,” Hera pointed out. “For now, though, let’s keep this between us. I just wanted to make sure Sabine knew before she left.”

Sabine bumped Hera’s shoulder. “Thanks, mom.”

Hera smiled softly.

Silence fell again, but it was a warmer quiet than earlier. Outside the spaceport, prowling loth-cats mewed and music echoed from tapcafes and restaurants.

Zeb couldn’t help but be a little optimistic. Kits were blessings, signs of hope for the future.

Hope had been in short supply the last month, at least for the Spectres. Maybe with Hera’s news, it would return in full force.

They certainly needed it. _Zeb_ certainly needed it.

Kallus stood in the hangar that had become his workshop over the past month, arms on his hips. Where once had been piles of deactivated droids, now stood shelves of droid parts, tools, and gifted foodstuffs. MSE-6 droids rushed around Kallus’s feet, methodically buffing the floor back to a dull sheen.

Next to him stood Gara, a dark-haired young Lothalian woman. She’d approached him two weeks before about apprenticing with him, fixing droids. Kallus had been too shocked to say no.

It turned out she actually knew more than Kallus about droid programming, having gone to a gifted scientific academy on Garel, and Kallus had no qualms about leaving her in charge of the small business he’d inadvertently set up.

“You know, I’ll be fine,” Gara said. “There’s plenty left to do around here.”

Kallus shook his head. “I have no doubts.” _It’s just bittersweet_ , he couldn’t say. _Leaving behind the place I built for myself here on Lothal, a planet that had no business putting up with me this long._

She turned to Kallus and held out a hand. “Travel safe, Kallus.”

He shook her hand. “We will, I’m sure of it. You know how to contact me if you need to?”

The piece of flimsi in her pocket crinkled when she patted it. “Got your frequencies here. Go on, take your droids and go.”

Kallus nodded. Looking down, he spotted the four MSE droids he planned to take with him. “B-3, K-8, L-10, B-6, come on. It’s time to go to the _Ghost_.”

The droids beeped agreeably and started rolling toward the hangar entrance.

With a final nod, Kallus left Gara to her own devices and set out across town, the MSEs skittering behind him.

That morning, he and Zeb had packed up their apartment, loaded their things into Zeb’s cabin – _still **Zeb’s** cabin, not **their** cabin_ – and set out to finalize their dealings on Lothal.

It’d been a long month. Sabine had left for Krownest a few days before and her departure sparked a discussion about returning to Yavin IV. The Empire hadn’t shown up and there were no hints they planned to try and reclaim Lothal, so the _Ghost_ crew decided to return to the greater Rebellion.

Kallus had missed Yavin IV. He missed his roommates, for some reason, and he missed leading his commandos. Would they let him command again after having been gone so long? Had Zaarin continued to try and seduce the entire alien population of Yavin IV? Had Jaci gotten tired of Coryn and Otto yet? 

What would happen to his relationship with Zeb when they returned?

Things hadn’t improved much in the last weeks. Zeb still seemed distant most of the time, though he had his moments of affection. He was never _mad_ at Kallus, but Kallus still felt he was lacking somehow in the lasat’s eyes. It was hard not to wonder if their relationship had simply been a Lothalian thing, physical comfort for Zeb as he mourned his friends.

Despite all that, Zeb greeted him with a smile as he and the droids entered the _Ghost_. “You got some tagalongs,” he said.

Kallus nodded. “Bringing them back for the Rebellion. Unless Hera wants one of them for the _Ghost_.”

“Nah,” Zeb laughed. “You try that and Chopper’d space the thing. He’s done that before, y’know.”

Kallus arched an eyebrow. Somehow, he could absolutely picture the C1 doing just that. “Hopefully he’ll put up with them for the transit to Yavin.”

“For you? Probably? Li’l junker’s _nice_ to you.” Zeb huffed and closed up the ramp. He punched a button on his left vambrace. “Hera? We’re ready to go.”

As the repulsorlifts raised the ship off the ground, Kallus made his way to the cockpit. He hadn’t been back into space since arriving on Lothal and, to his surprise, he’d missed it terribly. Then again, he’d spent most of his adult life in space, so perhaps it wasn’t so surprising after all.

The blue of Lothal’s sky transitioned to the black of the outer atmosphere and then they burst into space, the viewport filled with brilliant stars.

Kallus noticed Zeb sigh happily, too.

Well, that was one thing they still had in common.

“Chop, you got the coordinates plugged in?” Hera asked.

The droid tootled merrily.

“Okay boys, strap in.” Without waiting for a reply, Hera reached forward and pulled the lever to launch them into hyperspace.

Kallus sat for a minute, enjoying the mesmerizing swirl of light.

Chopper bumped into his chair, possibly accidentally, and Kallus sat up straighter. “Chopper,” he said quickly, thinking of what Zeb had told him. “There are MSE droids in the hold that are to stay there. I’ve brought them with me so they can help the Rebellion. They need to make it to Yavin, please.”

Chopper rolled back and forth for a minute before warbling something. As he left the cockpit, Hera laughed and Kallus blushed.

“What?” Zeb asked. “What’d the bugger say?”

Hera looked at Kallus, who bit his lip. “He said that he’d let them live because they’re mine.”

“He _said_ he’d let them live because they’re Kallus’s children,” Hera corrected. “‘ _Kallusspawn_ ’ was the exact word he used.”

Zeb burst into a huge grin and Kallus knew, just _knew_ , he’d never hear the end of it. “Children, huh? Movin’ quickly, aren’t we, Kal? Thought I was supposed to have some input on whether or not we have kits.”

Kallus buried his face in his hands as Zeb laughed and clapped him on the back. “If you need me, I’ll be hiding in Zeb’s cabin,” he grumped, pairing his words with action.

He’d barely sat down on the bed when the door _swoosh_ ed open again, letting Zeb in. The lasat sat down next to Kallus.

“This is your cabin, too,” Zeb said carefully, as if Kallus were a skittish loth-cat. “We share stuff now, Alex.”

Kallus shook his head. “I don’t want to presume.”

Zeb picked up one of Kallus’s hands and kissed the back. “We’re courtin’. You’re s’posed to presume.”

“We don’t necessarily have to share things anymore,” Kallus pointed out. “Dating human couples don’t move in together right away. When we get back to Yavin, I can move back to my bunk, if they haven’t given it away, and we can be a more traditional couple.”

Zeb was quiet, taking in a deep breath before speaking. “If that’s what you want.”

 _I don’t know,_ Kallus thought desperately. _I’m trying to guess what **you** want, Garazeb. I’d kiss you right now if I thought you’d let me_.

When Kallus didn’t answer, Zeb stood and ruffled his hair. “I’m gonna go watch the latest holonet broadcast,” he explained. “See ya at Yavin, unless you wanna come out and join me?”

“Maybe in a bit,” Kallus said. “I just need a minute.”

“All right,” Zeb said affably. “See ya, Alex.”

 _‘I love you, Garazeb_ ,’ Kallus almost said, but Zeb was gone before he mustered the nerve. Flopping back on the bed, Kallus covered his eyes with his arm. _What am I doing? I love him. I don’t want to lose him._

 _So why do I feel like I already have_?

Kallus laid there a moment, letting that last thought stew in his mind. He didn’t like it, didn’t like how true it felt. It would be so easy just to give up once they got to Yavin and let Zeb go.

But he was Alexsandr kriffing Kallus, cruel and selfish bastard, and he didn’t want to let their relationship die so easily.

With a burst of resolve, he pushed himself off the bed and went straight to the common area, where Zeb and Hera sat, watching some holositcom.

Hera took one look at Kallus’s face and sat up immediately. “I think I’m going to go take a nap,” she announced, sliding out from behind the dejarik table and slipping past Kallus.

Zeb watched Kallus, a curious look on his face. “You okay?” he asked.

Kallus fought a grimace. Surely it was obvious that he wasn’t. He decided to take the straightforward route. “Do you regret agreeing to court me?”

Leaning forward, Zeb’s frown only deepened. “What?”

“I’m asking if you’re sorry you kissed me back. I’m asking if you’re looking for a way out of this. I’m asking if you meant it when you said you liked me as well as loved me.” Kallus’s hands balled into fists practically on their own. He could barely breathe waiting for the answer.

Zeb was slack-jawed. “How could you think that?”

That seemed a positive answer. Kallus stepped forward, out of the doorway and up to the table. “Because while you have your moments of seeming like you care, you’re far away the rest of the time. You’ve stopped initiating anything in or out of bed. You treat me a lot more like a friend than a lover or a partner. How could I _not_ think you were regretting your actions?”

Zeb scooted out from behind the table, reaching out. Kallus tentatively placed one hand in his. “Karabast, Alex, have I been that bad?” he asked, green eyes large with surprise.

Kallus could only nod.

“Blast it,” Zeb muttered. He squeezed Kallus’s hand. “No. I don’t regret anything. I just–”

Kallus looked down as Zeb toyed with his hand, those soft fingers manipulating his with surprising dexterity and care.

“Go back to our cabin,” Zeb said. “I wanna show you something.”

Unsure if that was meant to be a poorly-conceived innuendo or not, Kallus did as he was told.

Right behind him, Zeb shut the door, hitting the control to lock it. He sat by the head of the bed and opened the drawer underneath his pillow.

Kallus had seen in that drawer before, seen enough to know the things in there were precious to Zeb, even if he didn’t know what all those things were. The bag that Zeb pulled out was one of those things.

Zeb motioned for Kallus to sit next to him. Kallus settled in, their knees just barely touching, and Zeb opened the bag.

It was full of dull red dirt. No, it was red dirt and gray dust mixed together. Kallus looked up at Zeb, waiting for an explanation.

“This is all I’ve got left of Lasan,” Zeb said. “For all I know, there’s bits of the royal family or _my_ family in there, too.”

Kallus’s stomach dropped as he realized he _did_ recognize the red dirt after all. He’d been assigned to a city next to a lake and the red mud had gotten in every crevice of his uniform and armor. “Garazeb…”

Zeb shook his head. “I said I’d tell ya about me when Lothal was over. Well, Lothal’s over and we got some time. So I’m starting here.”

Recognizing that he should simply let Zeb talk, Kallus held his tongue.

Setting the bag on his pillow, Zeb stared down at his hands. “Lasat families are big, prob’ly because we’re usually twins or triplets, unlike you humans.” He chewed his lower lip for a moment. “I had seven brothers and sisters. I was in the middle, the runt of the group, smaller even than Jen.”

“Jen?” Kallus asked quietly.

“Jenobra, my twin sister. I’ll, uh, tell you about her sometime. And the others.” Zeb fidgeted, picking at one of his claws. “We lived in Ithdasira, had for a couple generations.”

Kallus recognized that name. “The capital.”

Zeb nodded. “That’s right. Big place. Beautiful, winding up in the olimilau and ch’hala trees almost to the canopy, nearly as tall as it was wide.”

“I never saw it,” Kallus said. “But from the one town I did see, I can only imagine how the capital must have looked.”

Zeb seemed to ease a little at Kallus’s words. _He must have feared I was one of the soldiers in the capital. I would worry about that, too, were I him_.

“Anyhow, I was the only one in my family to get accepted into the High Honor Guard. It was a big deal to my parents and my grandparents. And when I became Captain only seven years later, you’d think I’d been made into royalty.”

Kallus tried to imagine having a family that close and that proud of him. He may have continued to support his mother and sisters, but he barely saw them. Barely communicated with them. Really, they were nothing more than obligations and had never seemed to want more from him than his credits.

“I grew close with the royal family, particularly one of the princesses, a younger sister of the Queen. Talla. I thought maybe…”

Kallus could fill in the blank. “You loved her?”

“I thought I did,” Zeb said. “I think now it was more infatuation than love, for both of us.”

 _Is what we have more infatuation than love?_ Kallus wondered.

“When the Empire came–”

“When _I_ came,” Kallus muttered.

“When the _Empire_ came,” Zeb reiterated, “I couldn’t go protect my family. I had to protect the Queen and her family, Talla included. And I tried. My men held the palace for a long time, long enough for most of the city to make it inside. It’d been too easy to hold the palace, but I didn’t realize it until too late. Not until…”

Kallus braced himself.

“Not until the bomb went off.” Zeb hung his head. “The palace had been full of people: the royal family, _my_ family, most of the Honor Guard. The only one who wasn’t there was my grandmother. She’s the one who found me in the rubble after the Empire left, found I was still alive. I didn’t want to be alive after realizing how I’d failed everyone, but I kept moving because of her. We gave every last thing we had to a scavenger to take us off-planet.”

“But you kept that bag,” Kallus said. “And your medallion.”

Zeb nodded. “I took a handful of what was left of the palace,” he said, fingering the satchel again. “And I could have sold my medallion at any time, but it just seemed important to keep it.”

“What happened when you went off-planet?” Kallus asked. “How did you end up here?”

Zeb laughed hollowly. “It took a while. First, we hid. Outer Rim planets, unsavory places but places that had no loyalty to the Empire. After a year, though, my grandmother died and I was alone. I lost everyone, Alex. _Everyone_. I thought I was the last lasat in the galaxy.

“I didn’t have anything to live for, so I threw myself into dangerous situations. I ended up an independent gladiator on Sleheyron, fighting for money. That’s where I got most of my scars.”

 _A gladiator_. It fit, but it still broke Kallus’s heart. Gladiators had short life expectancies and surely Zeb had known that. But if he really thought everything was lost…

Kallus shuddered.

“Kanan and Hera showed up eventually, seeking to free some of the enslaved fighters. Kanan talked me into helping them and showed me that I hadn’t really given up after all – if I was willing to help the slaves, why wouldn’t I be willing to help others? He talked me into joining the crew, came up with the ‘Spectre’ name, welcomed me into his and Hera’s lives.”

“And now he’s gone, too.”

“And now he’s gone, too,” Zeb agreed. “And so is Ezra. And Sabine, even if she’s just on Mandalore. I rebuilt a family – small and broken compared to my birth family, but still family – and now I’ve lost everyone except Hera and Chopper. _I lost everyone again_.”

The despair in Zeb’s voice caused Kallus’s heart to clench, especially when he noticed Zeb’s eyes glistening as tears formed. Instinctively, he reached out and held Zeb’s hand.

“Everything we do here on the _Ghost_ reminds me of them,” Zeb admitted. “It’s been hard and I’ve been trying to carry it on my own. Didn’t want to burden you more than you already are.”

“Garazeb.” Kallus cupped Zeb’s face with his free hand. “I _want_ to help you carry these things, if you’ll let me.”

“You’ve got to trust me like that, too,” Zeb said, side-eying him. “Neither of us are particularly good at that.”

Kallus nodded. Zeb was absolutely right. “I’ll promise to come to you if you promise to come to me.” He rubbed his thumb through the fine fur on Zeb’s cheek.

Zeb leaned into the touch. “I promise,” he said softly.

Resituating himself so that he was facing Zeb more, Kallus rubbed their cheeks together. “I love you, Garazeb,” he said, those words he’d been holding in so long. “Thank you for telling me about your family and what happened to you.”

Zeb pressed his forehead to Kallus’s, eyes closed. “That was only part of it,” he said. “But I love you, too, Alexsandr, more than I know how to put into words.”

“Show me?” Kallus asked, pressing a kiss against the thick vein on the side of Zeb’s neck. “I’ll show you, as well. We’ve still got a while before we arrive at Yavin.”

Zeb nodded. “I can do that.”

The next hours were spent in the bunk, bodies entwined. They made love, yes, but Kallus found he was hungrier to be held by Zeb than he was to sleep with him.

By the time Hera knocked on their door, they were wrapped together so tightly Kallus wasn’t quite sure where he ended and Zeb began.

“We’re about to drop out of hyperspace,” she said after a light rap on the door. “Better get ready.”

Reluctantly, Kallus extricated himself from Zeb’s grasp, one hand lingering on Zeb’s chest as he sat up and searched for his clothes.

He stood in the hold as Hera brought the _Ghost_ down on the tarmac. The MSE droids chittered excitedly in their basic Binary.

“Are they sayin’ somethin’?” Zeb asked.

“Yes,” Kallus said. “They’re wondering if they will make good Rebels.”

Zeb grinned and crouched, patting one of the droids on its head. “You guys’ll do fine. You’re not crazy like Chopper.”

The ship settled on the ground, the ramp lowered, and Kallus walked off into the muggy Yavin air.

“K! Zeb!” Zaarin stood just outside the ship, in front of a small welcoming committee that also included Jaci, Coryn, and Otto.

Kallus couldn’t help his smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Zaarin. How’re things here?”

“Oh, you know,” Coryn said, throwing an arm around Kallus’s shoulders. “Long stretches of boredom punctuated by short bits of sheer terror.”

“So war, then?” Kallus asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jaci giving Zeb a welcoming hug that lasted a few milliseconds too long. It took him a second to recall that her cousin had been one of the pilots killed on Lothal. He reached to hug her, too. “You okay?” he asked.

“As well as I can be,” she said, her voice not quite as bubbly as it used to be. “Glad you’re back, Fulcrum.”

Otto had hung back, but when Kallus let Jaci go, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Your bunk’s waiting,” he said. “Unless…?”

Kallus froze for a second before looking at Zeb, who’d had a similar reaction. He raised his eyebows questioningly and Zeb nodded. “I think,” he said slowly, “I’ll be staying on the _Ghost_ with Zeb.”

Zaarin broke into a huge grin and punched Kallus lightly on the shoulder. “That’s great! Knew you’d both come to your senses eventually.”

Setting his face so he wouldn’t react, Kallus asked, “So what have we missed?”

“We’ll catch you up tonight,” Coryn said. “Tapcafe after dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Zeb rumbled.

Zaarin clapped his hands. “Madine wanted to talk to you, K. Whenever you’re ready?”

Work already. Kallus sighed. “Of course. Lead the way.”

He set off with Zaarin across the landing field, listening to Jaci and Zeb talk behind him.

“Who’re the droids?” Zaarin asked, looking down.

“Oh!” Kallus had entirely forgotten about the MSE-6 droids; he’d gotten so used to them scurrying underfoot the last month. “Thought we could use some here. They’re good for cleaning or other simple tasks. They’re quite helpful, really.”

Zaarin shrugged. “Sure. They look more like they’re your pets, though.”

“They _have_ attached themselves to me,” Kallus agreed. “But that will change once they’re given duties.”

They entered the main temple and Kallus noticed one of the security droids he’d sent with Hera earlier. Beside it walked a young man who looked familiar.

It took Kallus a little too long to recognize Lyste out of his Imperial uniform.

Zaarin saw Kallus looking and grinned. “Your friend decided to defect after he heard what happened to Thrawn. Command’s got him under observation, but he’s been good so far from what I’ve heard. Still not the biggest fan of yours, though.”

“He wouldn’t be,” mused Kallus. “I’m glad to hear he made the decision, however.”

“Yup. Some of you Imperials have sense after all,” Zaarin said, waggling his eyebrows.

Kallus shook his head in amused exasperation. He’d missed his roommates, but he hadn’t been back five minutes and they were already finding their way back on his nerves.

He loved it.

“Garazeb.”

Zeb popped out of the A-wing engine and looked down. Of course, it was Kallus there.

“Heya, Kal,” he said. 

“You’re back at work already?” Kallus asked, eyebrow quirked.

Zeb shrugged. “Wasn’t much to do on the _Ghost_ and I didn’t feel like doin’ nothin’. You talk to Madine?”

Kallus nodded. “I’m back in charge of Senth-3. I admit, I’m surprised they held my position open this entire time.”

“You’re too good at your job.” Pointing at Kallus, he said, “You made after-dinner plans, didn’t you?”

“You’re included,” Kallus said.

“I know. But that means we need to get you moved out of your trunk now, before we get drunk.”

“Moved out?”

“You said you were gonna stay on the _Ghost_ ,” Zeb reminded him. He started closing up the A-wing. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Kallus chuckled. “Just like that? It will never cease to amaze me how the Rebellion survives without discipline and scheduling.”

“There _are_ schedules,” Zeb said. “But they’re more suggestions than anything.”

“Thank you for illustrating my point,” Kallus said.

Zeb hopped down and grabbed Kallus’s hand. “Let’s go get you moved in.”

They walked in silence back to the ship, which was empty when they arrived. Even Chopper had gone off somewhere.

In their cabin, Zeb started opening drawers, pointing out what areas were his and which were free for Kallus to take over.

Kallus didn’t start unpacking, however. Zeb paused, catching Kallus watching him.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Zeb wrinkled his brow. “Am I sure of what?”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to take over Ezra’s spaces?”

 _Oh._ Zeb reached out and ran his hands down Kallus’s arms. “Alexsandr Kallus, I want you to move in here with me. I want to keep fallin’ asleep with you at night and keep wakin’ up next to you every morning. As for Ezra? It’ll be easier havin’ you in here makin’ new memories than for me to be in here alone, missin’ him.”

Kallus smiled softly. “I’d like that too, but I want you to be sure.”

Zeb pulled him closer and kissed Kallus’s forehead. “When it comes to you, Alex, I’m more sure than anything in the galaxy.”

Kallus cupped Zeb’s jaw in both hands. “Then I’ll be here. I can’t replace your families, but I can promise to stay.”

 _Stay. I’d like him to stay forever._ “And you’ll tell me if I mess up again?”

“I think that was as much my mistake as yours,” Kallus said. “I should have known you’re still grieving, but I let my worries get the best of me.”

“Then we’d better be sure to watch each other,” Zeb said.

Kallus smiled. “Oh, I’ll watch you,” he said slyly. “And I’ll also watch _out_ for you.”

Zeb laughed and pulled Kallus into a hug. “Now who’s the incorrigible one?”

“I learned from the best.”

Zeb couldn’t argue that one and he didn’t want to. He just wanted to keep holding Kallus and never let him go.

Maybe he’d never have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ithdasira, the beautiful name for the Lasan capital city, comes from Anath_Tsurugi and means 'Harbor of the Wanderer'.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This antepenultimate chapter deals with events from _Rogue One_. 
> 
> Tag added for minor character death.

It’d been two days since Cassian first came to Kallus, asking for recommendations on which commandos to tap for a last-minute mission and the foreboding feeling haunting Kallus hadn’t gone away.

Of course, the second Cassian mentioned Saw Gerrera, Kallus’s stomach twisted into knots. “Don’t get mixed up with him, Andor,” he warned. “Gerrera is trouble.”

Cassian nodded and continued, completely ignoring Kallus’s worry. “An Imperial pilot is defecting to Saw’s Partisans. He’s got information we need.”

“Then negotiate for the information via holo,” Kallus suggested. “Don’t walk into Gerrera’s lair; he might not let you walk out again.”

“I know,” Cassian said. “But he won’t talk to anyone associated with Mon Mothma.”

“Of course he won’t.” Kallus sighed. “It’s still a bad idea.”

Cassian eyed Kallus. “I take it you don’t want to go.”

“Andor, I just got back from Lothal last week,” he said. “And when have I ever wanted anything to do with Saw Gerrera?”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully. “So tell me who to take.”

Kallus looked around the commando training fields and pointed out Zaarin’s lieutenant. “If you have to, try asking Melshi from Orenth-2. He’s one of the best out here.” Kallus pointed out some of his own men, offering them up. “They’ll probably be interested in getting off Yavin for some action.”

Cassian laughed. “Who are you kidding? Everyone out here would be interested in seeing action. They wouldn’t be commandos if they weren’t.”

Kallus offered a tight smile. “You forget, I know Intelligence isn’t much better.”

“True,” Cassian agreed. “Suppose that’s true of everyone here. Okay, Kallus, thank you for your input.”

“Be careful, Andor,” Kallus said, one last time.

Cassian hadn’t been careful. He’d extracted his target, but ended up barely escaping Jedha with his life and the lives of allies he’d picked up, and currently they all stood in the Command Center, listening to the Alliance leadership argue.

Kallus stood alone; Hera and Zeb and Rex were off-planet on a simple supply run. All around him, senators and generals and admirals argued over the danger this ‘Death Star’ posed.

_Death Star_. The Empire wasn’t even pretending anymore, were they? From the description the Jedha team gave, Kallus thought it might be the thing he’d been tracking in Intelligence: the reason for the Geonosian genocide, the kyber shipments, and the disappearance of technicians from around Imperial space.

Kallus crossed his arms, listening to the heated arguments – should they go to Scarif to retrieve the Death Star plans on the word of this Erso woman or not?

He knew what the answer would be long before the leadership came to their decision: no. Kallus had never been to Scarif, but he knew its specifications as an ISB facility and the odds of surviving a direct attack were almost nil.

The Rebels would have to find another way to defend themselves.

Amidst the crowd milling around following the meeting, Kallus spotted Cassian.

Cassian, the rule-follower, the best of the best of Intelligence. A former Fulcrum, cold-blooded when the need arose, fiery Rebel the rest of the time.

Cassian was gathering men and there could only be one reason, Kallus figured. He approached the slowly growing group, bits of conversation confirming his suspicions.

“–Imperial shuttle.”

“Can’t just _take_ it, can we?”

“Who’s going to stop us?”

Some of Kallus’s commandos were in the group – Pao, Rostok, Casrich – and they shuffled, making room for him in the small circle.

“What are you doing here, Kallus?” Cassian asked.

“You’re going to Scarif anyway, aren’t you, Andor?”

Cassian didn’t bother to deny it. “Yes. Are you going to stop us?”

“I’ll join you if you’ll have me.” The words were out before he ever processed what he was offering.

Grabbing his arm, Cassian pulled him aside. “Kallus, you know this mission is going to have high casualties.”

“And it’s an ISB facility. I can help reduce those numbers.”

“Have you ever been to Scarif?” Cassian asked, eyebrows raised.

Kallus had to say no.

“Do you know the layout of the tower?”

“No,” he said again.

“Kallus...” Cassian sighed. “Look, you and Captain Orrelios…”

“What about us?” Kallus asked, fighting a nauseating guilt when he thought of Zeb.

“I don’t want to take you from him,” Cassian said bluntly. “Stay here, Kallus. Cover for us. The Rebellion needs you here more than we need you with us.”

Cassian gave Kallus a little shove away from his growing group of renegades and Kallus stumbled a step or two, barely missing someone walking by.

_‘I don’t want to take you from him.’_ Cassian had said it so plainly and it hit Kallus the wrong way.

Or perhaps in exactly the right way. 

Kallus needed Zeb in his life. But Zeb needed Kallus, too, didn’t he? He seemed to think so, at least.

It’d been three years since they were enemies. A little over a year since they became friends. Less than that since they were furtive sex partners.

And only a month since they became lovers.

Somehow, though, that seemed to be enough. They’d been together in war and battle and even domesticity. Wasn’t that plenty for Kallus to know? To really _know_?

He turned toward the landing field. He’d wait for the _Ghost_ , however long it took, and pin Zeb down as soon as the ship landed.

At least, that was the plan. As Kallus wound his way through the throng of Rebels, the stolen Imperial shuttle took off with Cassian and his men inside.

Kallus wondered if he’d ever see them again. A pang struck him as he realized he probably should have said more to Cassian. _‘Finally found something worth breaking protocol for, haven’t you?’ ‘Take care and come back.’ ‘Thank you for being a friend and ally.’_

“ _Captain Kallus_!” Draven’s voice echoed across the tarmac.

Kallus turned to see one very irritated general stalking his way. “Yes, sir?”

Draven pointed up to the sky, in the direction the shuttle had flown. “Did you know Andor was going to do that?”

“No,” Kallus lied smoothly. “I had no idea.”

Crossing his arms, Draven glowered. “Captain, I saw you talking to him.”

“We discussed the meeting and his dissatisfaction with the outcome,” Kallus said. “And that was all.”

“Would you go under oath saying that?” Draven asked.

“Sir?” Kallus frowned. “Are you treating Andor as a deserter?”

“Is that not what he is?”

Kallus held out his hands in a sort of shrug. “Seems to me he’s still trying to help the Rebellion. Is that really desertion? Or is it simply overstepping the bounds of his previous mission?”

Draven shook his head. “Kallus, every time I think I miss you being in Intelligence, you go and say something like that. I should have known you’d cover for Andor; you helped do almost the exact same thing on Lothal.”

_I hadn’t thought about it that way. I suppose we did; we both ignored initial mission parameters and attacked – or will attack – an Imperial facility._ “Hopefully Andor will have as much success as we did.”

Draven gave Kallus a look. “Do you really think they will?”

Kallus frowned. “No, sir. Not really. Scarif is a lot more heavily defended than Lothal was. A much higher priority facility.”

“I’d have to agree with you.” Crossing his arms, Draven sighed. “I just hope some of them come back alive.”

“Maybe the Force will be with them,” Kallus said. “Isn’t that what we say here?”

Draven huffed. “You would know better than I. You worked with the Jedi.” He turned around, surveying the landing field. “Captain, if I can prove you knew what Andor was doing… I don’t know. I can’t punish you, you’re not my subordinate anymore.”

“You’ll withhold missions from my commandos,” Kallus supplied. “But I don’t think you’ll be able to prove anything.”

“You’ve been around that Phoenix Cell too much. You’re picking up their bad habits.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, sir.”

Draven laughed grimly as he walked off. “Of course you would.”

Kallus watched Draven go. Around the time the general disappeared into the temple, the first fat raindrops fell, splashing on the tarmac.

Yavin’s pop-up rain showers were nothing to worry about – they inevitably fizzled out after an hour or so – but it _did_ change Kallus’s plans of waiting outside for Zeb to return. Ducking his head, he hustled into the temple.

“Fulcrum!”

Kallus looked; there in the hangar was Jaci, waving at him. He hadn’t really had a chance to talk to her since returning, so he wound his way through the crowd over to her. 

She leaned against a tool chest, idly spinning a spanner. “You look distracted,” she said, far too astute. “You okay?”

“I’m simply worried about the crew that went to Scarif,” he explained, hoping she didn’t call him on his lie.

No such luck. “You sure it’s not another crew?”

Kallus sighed. “Jaci, I’m not giving you gossip.”

“Aw, c’mon. I don’t gossip. I just collect information for my own amusement,” she said with a soft smile.

“I should be asking if _you’re_ all right,” Kallus said. “I’m sorry about your cousin.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “He was only nineteen, y’know? And thanks to operational security, I had to send a text-only comm home to tell everyone. Couldn’t even tell them what planet, although Lothal made the news, so I’m sure they can guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kallus said, finding he really meant it. He hadn’t ever grown close to Maks, but he knew Jaci had been quite fond of her cousin.

“Zaarin still in the medbay?” she asked, a blatant attempt to change the subject.

Kallus nodded. “I haven’t heard the full story but I know he cracked his skull on his last mission.”

“That’s what Otto said.”

“When are you going to dump those two?” Kallus asked, only half-joking.

“Hey,” Jaci protested. “They’re both good men.”

Kallus huffed a laugh. “Of course they are.” They really were, but they also had the annoying habit of sticking their noses in Kallus’s business.

They stood there for the next few hours, watching the crowd disperse, gathering little bits of base gossip. Most of it, of course, was about the boosted Imperial shuttle, but even that became diluted quickly enough.

The Rebel gossip chain rivaled the Imperial one, Kallus reflected. He had tried to hold himself separate from both, but living on a base or a Star Destroyer meant you couldn’t escape it completely.

Coryn and Otto joined them soon enough. They were talking with Jaci, he knew, but he was only half paying attention as the hours passed and the _Ghost_ still hadn’t shown, responding with monosyllabic answers when appropriate.

Jaci punched his shoulder lightly. “C’mon, Fulcrum, talk. Zeb treating you right?”

Kallus huffed. “I would think you’d be better off worrying about the opposite happening.”

“Not what I heard,” she said. “Sounds like he got you on Lothal.”

Frowning, Kallus realized she was right. On Lothal, _Zeb_ had been the one to pull away.

Did that change anything?

No, he realized. If anything, he wanted to make sure Zeb never had another reason to pull away. He wanted to make sure he followed if Zeb ever did.

Otto nudged Kallus in the side. “Looks like the _Ghost_ is back, if you want to go to him.”

Kallus flushed. He didn’t like being so easily read. “Thank you,” he said, fumbling for the words. “I’ll talk to you all later.”

“Bye!” Jaci called, laughter in her voice. If Kallus had been able to focus on anything but Zeb at the moment, he might have noted that talking about his relationship with Zeb cheered her up more than anything else in their conversation. “Tell Zeb hi!”

Kallus strode across the landing field with purpose, towards the ship that was quickly becoming an actual home for him – something he hadn’t had since he was a child. He met the _Ghost_ crew on the ramp, nodding a greeting to Hera and Rex before placing a hand on Zeb’s chest. 

“Our cabin,” he said.

“Whoa.” He’d caught Zeb off-guard. “What’s going on?”

“We need to talk,” Kallus said, pushing past Zeb and heading up the ladder.

Zeb followed, but the confused look didn’t leave his face. “Alex?”

In their cabin, Kallus placed his hands on Zeb’s arms, ruffling the fur. “Zeb,” he started. “Someone told me something and I had a realization.”

“Realizations can be dangerous,” Zeb said warily.

“There was a group who left on a suicide mission this afternoon,” Kallus explained quickly. “Andor is leading it. I tried to volunteer, but he turned me away because of you. Because he didn’t want to take me from you.”

“Well, at least someone has some sense.” Zeb frowned. “What were you doing volunteering anyway?”

Kallus ignored that question. “I realized that perhaps you might need me as much as I need you. And I might have entirely misread you, but–”

Without waiting for his nerve to fail, Kallus grabbed Zeb’s head with both hands, pulling him down the little bit it took for their lips to meet.

He’d dreamed – one way or another – of kissing those lips ever since Bahryn and they didn’t disappoint. Zeb’s lips were soft and large and dwarfed his mouth, but that wasn’t anything but a logistical problem. It would simply take some experimentation.

Zeb made a startled noise and pulled back. “Alex!”

Kallus refused to be deterred. “Garazeb, I understand what that kind of kiss symbolizes for you and _you_ need to understand I mean it. Every nuance, every promise. I want you, forever, and I have since we arrived on this moon.”

“Alex…”

Kallus bit his lip. “I understand if that’s not what you want. I can wait for you to be ready, but I needed you to know how I feel.” Kallus took a step back, pulling his hands away as well. “I love you, more than I have words to say. I am a better man because of you. I am alive and on the right side of the war because of you. I owe you _everything_ but all I have to offer are my affection and devotion. Those, you have completely.”

“Alexsandr.” Zeb said his name gently, as if it were something precious. He brushed hair out of Kallus’s face and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you, too. I–”

An alarm klaxon blared, echoing through the ship, interrupting anything Zeb was going to say.

They looked at each other and Kallus could tell that they were in agreement: their needs came after the Alliance’s. Together, they ran out of the ship and heard a familiar voice making a general announcement.

“–We have been redirected to Scarif. Pilots, you’ll be briefed by your squadron leaders en route. May the Force be with you.”

“That Wedge?” Zeb asked.

“I believe so.” The sounds of snubfighters starting up came from the large hangar and Hera came running toward the _Ghost_. “Scarif, though. That’s not good.”

“What’s on Scarif?”

“An ISB facility where all the master copies of operation plans and blueprints are stored. There’s also a Death Trooper training facility and the whole planet is protected by a shield.”

Zeb frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t,” Hera said. “Where’s Rex?”

Zeb shrugged. “I didn’t see where either of you went.”

Hera sighed. “We’ll just have to go without him. Chop!” she called into the ship. “Start us up!”

Kallus followed her into the ship and into the cockpit. “What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Hera laughed. “The closest thing we have to a plan is that we know Andor and his team landed on Scarif and need backup.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Zeb said. “Just another day in the Rebellion.”

“It kinda is,” Hera said, angling the ship’s nose up towards space. “But with a lot more backup than usual.”

There was that. Kallus hadn’t seen this sort of base-wide action in, well, ever. Not even the fleet he saw at Atollon was as large as the one mustering now.

“It’s a short hop, so I need you boys strapped into the turrets. Chop, you take the _Phantom_.” Hera’s voice brooked no argument, but Kallus was in no mood to argue.

Okay, maybe he was a little. He wanted to know what Zeb had been going to say but like he’d told Zeb, he could wait.

Zeb would always be worth the wait.

The _Ghost_ ducked and dodged through the space over Scarif, narrowly avoiding hitting both turbolasers blasts and other ships. Star Destroyers and TIEs filled the viewport in front of Zeb.

“Hera!” he yelled, daring a glance upwards into the cockpit. 

“I see them!” she said, plunging the _Ghost_ down to avoid an out-of-control Y-wing.

Zeb watched it tumble for a second before exploding. He winced. There was no telling which pilot had been inside and he hoped it wasn’t anyone he knew. The longer they were on Yavin, the longer he worked on ships and met people, the lower the likelihood of that.

Looking up, towards the planet, Zeb saw the shield gate still shut. X-wings and Y-wings attacked it, but most failed or crashed into it, breaking apart. He winced. _Ashla, help us_ , he prayed.

“ _Hera, do we still have an objective here?_ ” Kallus, up in the dorsal turret, sounded preternaturally calm even over the internal comms.

Zeb saw through that. These pilots that were getting killed included Kallus’s roommates Coryn and Otto and they all knew Rebels who served on the capital ships. Kallus had commandos down on Scarif, now cut off from the fleet. He wasn’t dispassionate, just controlled.

“I’m waiting to hear!” Hera said. “Waiting on– oh, there’s Raddus!”

Zeb could hear the warbly tones of a Mon Calamari over the comms but couldn’t make out what was being said. He fired on a TIE chasing an X-wing while he waited.

“There’s a disabled Star Destroyer. Raddus just called up a Hammerhead,” Hera said. “I think he’s gonna try–”

“What Sato did at Atollon?” Zeb filled in.

“Yeah. Sort of.” Hera turned the _Ghost_ just enough that Zeb could see what was happening.

And okay, it wasn’t quite what Sato did at Atollon, but watching that Hammerhead push one Destroyer into another certainly made Zeb think of the commander fondly.

“ _Stars, they’re everywhere,_ ” Kallus muttered. “ _Hera, there’s one on our tail and I can’t get a clean shot_.”

Hera made a frustrated noise. “Chopper will have to do that. Come on, Chop! Everyone else, hold on!”

The _Ghost_ made a series of dizzying dives and dips and twists and turns. Zeb was glad he didn’t have a weak stomach or battles like this might push his limits. He fired when he could fix on a TIE or Imperial corvette, which was less often than he liked.

“Hera, you gotta let me get a target lock!” he said. “I’m afraid I’ll hit our guys!”

The _Ghost_ evened out just in time for Zeb to see an X-wing – one of Red Squadron’s, though he couldn’t see who it was – disintegrate under a turbolaser blast.

“Karabast,” he swore. “Are we gonna get out of here alive?”

“ _We will_ ,” said Kallus firmly. “ _If anyone can outfly the Empire, it’s Hera Syndulla. I should know._ ”

“Shoot now, complement later, boys,” Hera fussed, but then her voice went quiet. “Oh, _kriff_.”

Zeb hadn’t ever heard Hera curse like that, not in that heartfelt tone. He looked up and saw it: a new moon in the sky.

No, not a moon, just moon-sized. It took him a moment to comprehend that he was looking at some sort of ship.

“ _Hera, if that’s what I think it is, the fleet needs to get out of here!_ ” Kallus’s voice overlapped with another incoming transmission.

“Raddus agrees! We’re jumping to hyperspace!”

“ _Did they get the plans?_ ”

Zeb held his breath.

“Yes!” yelled Hera happily. “Just got confirmation and orders to jump!”

Hera hit the sublight thrusters, gaining speed. Chopper had programmed in a first jump on the way _to_ Scarif, so all they had to do was aim in the right direction and go.

Right as they went, however, Zeb saw a massive Star Destroyer drop from hyperspace. It was too late to stop; they’d just have to hope the rest of the fleet and the plans made it out.

Hyperspace swirled around them. Zeb half-expected the _Ghost_ to drop out right away, to return and help the rest of the fleet, but it didn’t. “What are we doing, Hera?” he asked. “Don’t we need to go back?”

“No. Orders from Raddus said go.” Something in Hera’s voice was broken again, not quite as bad as it had been on Lothal but close. “I’d like to go back, but–”

“– _But you’ve got to think like a general. Right now, the Alliance needs someone to piece the fleet back together and lead it home,_ ” Kallus finished for her.

“Exactly.” Looking up, Zeb could see Hera slumped over the controls, one hand on her lower abdomen. Exhaustion filled her voice, not the adrenaline-filled excitement that usually followed a space battle and some superior flying. “We’re headed to Latharra now. We’ll make one more jump to our emergency rendezvous point and send a signal out to all remaining ships.”

Quietly, Zeb took off his headset and climbed back up to the main level of the ship, where he met Kallus coming down. Chopper roller between them, manipulators waving, headed straight to the cockpit.

Zeb barely noticed that, however. Kallus looked– well, he looked haunted.

Gathering Kallus in his arms, Zeb asked, “Are you okay?”

Kallus clung to the back of Zeb’s shoulder armor, pulling on it slightly. “That shield gate. Even after the Destroyer brought it down, no ships left the planet before that thing fired. There wasn’t time.”

_That thing_. What _was_ that thing? Zeb didn’t have anything encouraging to say. “No, I don’t think there was.”

“My commandos were down there,” Kallus said. “I know there were at least three in Andor’s group and if I’d mustered with my unit instead of with you, I’d’ve probably been down there leading them. As it is, I don’t know if the whole unit was sent or not.”

“Oh, Alex,” Zeb murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“I should have been down there,” Kallus said. “I should have been with my unit. I should have–”

_‘I should have died with them,_ ’ Zeb finished silently. “No, you shouldn’t have. Didn’t you listen to what Cassian said?”

“That the Rebellion needs me?” Kallus scoffed. “I don’t know what good I did for the Rebellion today; all I did was cover for Andor.”

“And because of that, they got the plans out,” Hera said, emerging from the cockpit. “I just got word – the _Tantive IV_ managed to jump to hyperspace with the plans.”

A sense of relief settled over Zeb. That _thing_ had been terrifying and the glimpses he’d gotten of what it did to Scarif, what Kallus reported it’d done to Jedha…

They needed those plans. They needed to find some way to defend themselves.

They had them. They had a fighting chance.

Zeb hugged Kallus tighter, burying his face in the man’s hair. Hera walked by, heading to the common area, running a hand across Zeb’s back as she did so.

“Chopper’s in charge of our jumps. We’ve got an hour to the rendezvous point,” Hera said. “Get some rest. We don’t know what’s coming next.”

“Gotcha.” Zeb leaned down to whisper in Kallus’s ear. “Our cabin.”

The human flushed, the tips of his ears and cheeks turning pink and showing off his freckles, but the effect lasted only a second. Kallus nodded and reached back to trigger the door controls.

Zeb let Kallus lead the way into the room, but as soon as the door was shut, he pushed Kallus back against the wall. With a claw, he gently traced the lines of Kallus’s face: his cheeks, his facial hair, the stressed hollows under his eyes, the attractive-yet-absurdly-long human nose, the dip above his upper lip, everywhere Zeb could think of.

Kallus closed his eyes for most of it, leaning back against the bulkhead. “Garazeb, what I did earlier…” he said. “Don’t, not if you don’t… I mean–”

“Quiet,” Zeb instructed. “I never said I didn’t, did I? I just got interrupted.”

Kallus opened his eyes, their color a liquid amber in the warmth of the bed lamps. Curiosity filled his expression, but Zeb could see from the lines on his forehead that he was worried, too.

Well, Zeb could fix that. He leaned in, resting his forehead against Kallus’s. “Alexsandr Kallus, I love you. And if I get to finish what I’m sayin’ this time, I wanna tell you I feel the same as you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want _you_.”

As Zeb moved in for a kiss, Kallus closed his eyes again and tilted his head to the side the slightest amount. Zeb followed his lead; he knew Kallus had more experience kissing than he did.

The kiss was better than the first one, Zeb thought. It was slower, softer, sweeter, but just as passionate. If this was what kissing was like, then no wonder his people saved it for someone special. Kissing was…

Well, it was wet and awkward and he hadn’t expected Kallus to stick his tongue in Zeb’s mouth, but it was still _very_ good. He couldn’t help the small growl when Kallus bit down on his lower lip, tugging it a little.

Kallus pulled back, looking worried again. “Did that hurt?” he asked. “I didn’t mean–”

“No,” Zeb said. “Just new.”

Kallus stroked Zeb’s cheek. “It _is_ all new for you, isn’t it? I forget sometimes because we’ve done so much together.” He leaned forward and rubbed their cheeks together, scenting Zeb. “We’ll go at your speed.”

“I learn quickly,” Zeb protested, though he leaned into Kallus’s gesture. “Don’t stop.”

Kallus laughed, breathy and warm. “All right, then, Garazeb.”

The third kiss saw things figured out a bit more; Zeb knew what to do and mostly what to expect and the press of lips and teeth and tongue was pleasurable and intimate. No wonder humans and other species did it more frequently.

Zeb was glad he’d waited, though. To have kissed Kallus like this back when it was just a ‘friends thing’ and he didn’t know Kallus loved him? It would have been heartbreaking.

By waiting, he knew he loved Kallus. He knew Kallus loved him. And a kiss became everything in the galaxy to Zeb: a promise to stay, a promise to fight for each other, a promise to never give up.

That third kiss led them to the bed. They didn’t have all that long, so they couldn’t do too much, but they made the best of the time they had.

By the time Hera knocked on their door, saying the rendezvous point was minutes away, they were both out of bed, cleaning up, and getting dressed. There was no getting around the fact that the room smelled like sex, but Zeb had smelled that coming from Hera’s cabin plenty of times before– before Kanan died.

He tried to tell himself it was only fair, but Kanan’s face lingered in his mind.

They were among the first at the rendezvous point. Rebel ships were jumping in from all directions; the fleet had scattered as they fled. 

Capital ships, cruisers, freighters, snubfighters, all gathered in the middle of open space.

Hera opened a comm channel on the general Alliance frequency. “This is General Syndulla on the _Ghost_. Please report in to your commanders; all commanders report in to me as your people arrive.”

Zeb sat behind Hera, watching her work with Kallus to create a list of all the ships that left Yavin and all the ships that reported in.

Though Zeb was once again proud of Kallus, proud of his sharp memory and calm demeanor under pressure, he couldn’t help but be disheartened at the reports coming in.

Less than half the larger ships had shown up, even after a two hour delay. The _Tantive IV_ was not one of them. Blue and Green squadrons had been practically annihilated in Scarif’s atmosphere and Red and Gold squadrons hadn’t fared much better in space.

_Red Four_ , he saw Kallus list among the confirmed dead. That was Otto. Someone had seen Otto’s fighter disintegrated; he wasn’t simply missing.

Zeb felt sick. He wasn’t nearly as close to Otto as Kallus was, but he’d still liked the man.

The growing list of confirmed killed-in-action just made Zeb sicker. They’d taken more than a beating above Scarif; they’d been devastated. And that Death Star was still out there.

Could they survive?

The fleet limped back to Yavin IV, Hera at the lead, much like it had after Atollon.

Much like then, they were greeted by General Draven upon landing.

Draven wasn’t alone; a small MSE-6 droid rolled up the ramp and started butting Kallus’s ankles as they disembarked.

Zeb recognized the little droid by a small dent in its back left corner: L-10, or Lio as they’d taken to calling it. It spent the most time following Kallus around and Zeb was only half-joking when he said the droid was in love with Kallus.

Well, Lio would just have to get in line.

“General,” Draven said, sounding tired. “I understand you have the latest casualty list?”

Hera gestured at Kallus, who handed Draven the flimsi he’d written on. “That’s as complete as we could make it. There are still some question marks, like the _Tantive IV_.”

“They reported in an hour ago,” Draven said. “They were near Tatooine – why, I don’t know, it was a direct order of Senator Organa’s daughter – but we’ve since lost contact.”

Zeb nodded. He’d seen the young princess around Yavin on occasion and from what he remembered of her on Lothal, she was a force to be reckoned with. Tatooine, though… that was where Ezra had said the key to destroying the Sith was.

The Organas couldn’t know that, could they?

Lio moved to ramming Zeb’s toes, rolling back and forth beeping in Binary. Chopper blatted at it. Zeb got the impression it wanted to be followed.

Draven finished looking at the list. “General Syndulla, we need you with the Council now. You’re our ranking Fleet officer after Admiral Raddus.”

“And since he’s dead, that puts me in charge.” Hera nodded resignedly. “Well, let’s go get this over with.”

As the two generals walked off, Kallus knelt to pat Lio. “Who’s waiting on us?” he asked the droid. “Why are we following you?”

The droid gave a shrill Binary scream, making Zeb wince.

“Let’s go so it shuts up,” he grumbled.

Kallus reached out and took Zeb’s hand as they crossed the tarmac, following Lio to the main snubfighter hangar. Zeb was surprised at Kallus showing the affection in public, but he supposed they were among allies and no one would look askance at them taking comfort after the tragedies at Scarif.

Not to mention Zeb knew Wedge and his friends Wes and Hobbie had been running a betting pool on them getting together, making this a welcome sight to at least some of the base.

Someday, he should ask who won.

The scene in the hangar was somber. Pilots who’d been grounded for lack of fighters bemoaned not being at Scarif to help, _everyone_ mourned those who’d been lost.

Chief among those had been General Antoc Merrick, Blue One and leader of the starfighter corps.

Lio led them over to the mechanic’s corner, where Zeb saw who was waiting. His heart fell.

“Jaci…” Kallus said.

She shook her head. “Don’t say anything,” she said, sounding halfway between tears and shouts. 

Beside her, Coryn stood, holding his helmet under one arm. He looked tired and sweaty, in need of a sonic, but he also looked crushed, in need of comfort.

Zeb defied Jaci’s angry expression and pulled both humans into a hug. They didn’t put up a fight.

“Don’t you dare say anything about him going quickly,” she said, reluctantly returning the hug. “He’s dead and it’s not a mercy he died immediately. It’s not good he died doing something he loved. It’s _not_.”

Kallus placed his hands on Coryn and Jaci’s backs. “This _is_ war,” he said. “He knew the cost. He agreed to it when he signed up.”

Zeb frowned at Kallus over the other two’s heads. _That’s not helping_ , he mouthed.

Kallus shrugged, obviously at a loss for anything else to say.

“You’re right,” Coryn said, pulling away. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Zeb thought back. Ezra, Kanan, Sato, numerous other Rebels, and even his Honor Guardsmen… they’d all known death could be the price of their choices and they’d accepted it.

But as Coryn said, it didn’t make it any easier to be a survivor.

“What happens now?” asked Jaci. “If that thing is as big as Coryn says it is, what can we do?”

Kallus looked stressed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know if we can fight it, but we have to try.”

“Hopefully the princess will get here with those plans,” Zeb said. “Then Intelligence can look for a weakness.”

“If Erso was right, her father left a trap in the reactor. We just have to find out how to trip it.” Kallus looked at Zeb.

“We will,” Zeb said, still holding Jaci, who was crying if the damp feeling on his chest was any clue. He rubbed her back. “We always do. There’s a future after this, after this war, and we’re going to see it.”

_Are we?_ Kallus asked, silently, with pleading in his eyes. _Are we really_?

Zeb tried to say yes, to back up his words with confidence, but they caught in his throat.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with events from _Episode IV: A New Hope._

It was very early morning on Yavin IV, still in the night cycle, but the base was lit up and active as if it were midday. Sleep didn’t happen when battle was imminent.

Hera was with Command and Logistics staff, deciding on a plan of action if the Death Star were to show up in-system. Kallus didn’t need to be there to know the largest problem: after Scarif, they could no longer evacuate everyone in one trip.

That fact was the reason he and Zeb had split up. Zeb was buried in ships’ engines, helping crews and pilots become spaceworthy again.

And Kallus…

Kallus had returned to Intelligence. He’d learned his commando unit had been slaughtered on Scarif, so there was no one left to train, and even Draven couldn’t turn away a keen mind as they searched for a new base.

Ideally, they’d have been searching for the weakness Galen Erso had placed in the Death Star, but the _Tantive IV_ no longer responded to hails. And sometime during the night, Bail Organa’s Alderaanian cell had gone quiet, too.

A trader, an ally who sourced food for them, sent word of the rumor that Alderaan had been destroyed by the new battle station. A whole planet, obliterated.

Unfortunately, after seeing Scarif, Kallus could picture it all too well.

It was best to presume the plans were lost for good. The only recourse they had was to run and hide. A space station, perhaps, something mobile. Something that wasn’t just a sitting target like the moon they were currently on.

Kallus downed another cup of caf and blinked, trying to stay awake. Zeb had gotten him used to a set schedule and his body was revolting against old habits, trying to fall asleep when he needed to be scouring sector maps.

With General Draven upstairs and no one taking charge, the Intelligence room was quiet as everyone worked at their own desks.

Sitting in front of his old desk, now occupied by a nervous young human – their accent told Kallus they were from Chandrila – Kallus pressed fingers to his temples. Lack of sleep was getting to him.

_I’m getting old_ , he thought sourly. _I’ve lost my edge_.

“What about Spefik?” the kid asked, pointing to a planet in the middle of the Atrivis sector, off the hyperspace pathways.

“Possible,” Kallus said. He wasn’t familiar with the planet, which meant the Empire didn’t have any assets there, or hadn’t a year ago. There was little to no information on it on the holonet, which was even more promising. “Mark that down.”

They nodded. 

“Malagarr,” Kallus said, pointing to a spot on a flimsi map. “It’s in Wild Space, but it could hide us until we find somewhere better.”

The kid nodded again, making a note on their datapad and routing the information to the group server.

“Do you think we could talk the Hapans into hiding us?” the kid asked. “There are so many untouched worlds in the Consortium…”

“Not without a _lot_ of diplomacy. No, you’d better not suggest them,” Kallus mused.

“Agent.”

Kallus froze. He hadn’t noticed anyone walking up behind him. _I really am losing my edge._

“Yogar,” Kallus said, trying to sound pleasant. He turned in his chair to see the young man standing less than two meters away.

Lyste had changed a lot since Kallus last talked to him. Out of his Imperial uniform, out of the prison jumpsuit, he dressed simply in a tunic and pants. The muted colors made him blend into the background, no doubt his intention.

What didn’t blend in was the KX-series droid behind him. Its hulking form loomed large in the room, even as the droid had to bend down to not hit the ceiling.

Lyste hadn’t sought him out since they returned from Lothal and Kallus had kept his distance, hoping the young man would find his own place within the Rebellion. “What can I do for you?”

Lyste bit his lip, appearing to be nothing more than a scared youth. He’d always seemed young to Kallus, but the fear was new. “The planet killer they’re talking about. Is it real?”

Kallus briefly rubbed his eyes and gestured for Lyste to pull up a chair. “It is. I saw it at Scarif. One short blast from its… well, it’s something much stronger than a turbolaser, I don’t have a word for it. But one short blast and Scarif itself was destroyed. I don’t know if the planet will be habitable again for a very long time.”

“And they really called it a Death Star or is that simply our nickname for it?”

_Our_. Good, Lyste was thinking like a defector. “Well, it’s a game of holocomms, because the name came from an Imperial scientist who told a defecting pilot who told Saw Gerrera who told the scientist’s daughter who told us. But yes.”

Lyste nodded slowly. “They had to be working on it while we were on Lothal, weren’t they? Did you know about it?”

“No,” Kallus said. “It was a project so secret even the ISB didn’t know about it. But it’s the culmination of the things I told you to think about: genocides and kidnappings and vast numbers of kyber crystals. The Emperor had to have green-lit the project around the beginning of the Empire itself.”

“The things that made you defect?”

They’d discussed Kallus’s reasons before, but now Kallus knew what his research had been leading to. “Yes, the things that made me defect.” Kallus frowned. “What made you finally decide to join us?”

Lyste looked away. “In the end, Thrawn,” he said. “I knew what the Empire had done to Garel and Lothal and while I knew it wasn’t an improvement, I could convince myself it was a step to greatness and unity with the galaxy. But after you defeated the Seventh Fleet and I heard what Thrawn’s projects had done to Lothal and that he bombarded the very cities the Empire was supposed to be protecting…”

“You started to see the Empire for what it was.” It wasn’t a question. Kallus knew that particular disillusion far too well.

“I did.” Lyste sounded almost ashamed, but Kallus heard the touch of durasteel in his voice. Lyste wasn’t about to switch his loyalties back. He cleared his throat. “And so here I am.”

“Here you are,” Kallus echoed. “I’m glad you made up your mind, Yogar, but what brings you down here now?”

“I want to help.” Lyste held his hands open and asked, “What can I do?”

Kallus thought for a second. He believed Lyste’s defection, but did the others? 

At this point, did it matter?

Handing Lyste a datapad, Kallus directed him to the list of possible bases. “See if you recognize any of these as having Imperial activity in the last year,” he instructed.

Immediately, Lyste identified two planets as being unsuitable for bases. Kallus erased them from the collaborative list and scooted so Lyste could share his map.

The Chandrilan kid – Kallus probably should have gotten their name – brought back three more cups of caf and they attacked the maps once more, freshly caffeinated.

They were still like that well into mid-morning, when the sound of someone running down the hall caught Kallus’s ear. 

He looked up to see a Rodian tech stop in the door, breathing heavily. “The Princess is back. She has the plans.”

Kallus looked across the room. Everyone was too tired and too stunned to really react. Inadvertently, he caught Jael’s eye.

He’d successfully avoided her after leaving Intelligence months back, but at the moment, old animosities had to be set aside for the good of the Rebellion.

She nodded at him. Kallus stood, pushing on the desk to help his tired, stiff body up. “Take me to her,” he instructed the Rodian. “I’ll get the plans.”

The tech waved for him to follow and Kallus kept up a quick pace, his long legs letting him catch up swiftly.

On the way to the landing field, Kallus tried to imagine what the Death Star’s fault could be, how they could exploit it, and what had happened to the _Tantive IV_ for it to have dropped out of contact for nearly a day.

The tech turned before they reached the landing field, heading instead for the main hangar. Kallus followed, but stopped in his tracks when he saw what was waiting for him.

A Corellian YT-1300 light freighter with a familiar – or rather, _notorious_ – set of modifications sat there. In front of it stood a brown wookiee, the princess, a blond boy, two droids from the Alderaanian cell, and…

Han Solo.

Kallus groaned. He’d chased down Solo once upon a time, back when he’d been fervent in his passion for the Empire. He’d despised Solo as a deserter and almost caught him. Even with the help of the bounty hunter IG-88, however, Solo had escaped with some clever flying.

He’d just have to hope Solo didn’t remember or recognize him.

Their run-in had been nearly ten years before. Surely Solo wouldn’t remember one incident that far back.

From behind him, Kallus heard a welcome voice. “Kal!”

“Garazeb! What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Mechanics got a team together to go over the ship, look for tracking devices. I’m on it.” Zeb shrugged. “If they’ll let us. I understand Shyriiwook, so I’m on the team.”

“Great,” Kallus said. “You can translate for me if it’s necessary.”

Together, they approached the _Millennium Falcon_ , Kallus eying Solo warily. “Princess,” he said once they were close enough to be heard over the din. “I’m from Intelligence. I’m here for the plans.”

“Artoo has the plans,” the blond boy said, pointing to the blue and silver astromech.

“Thank you,” Kallus said. “I’ll take him with me if that’s all right.”

The wookiee said something Kallus couldn’t understand and he looked to Zeb, confused.

Zeb scratched at his neck. “Ah, the wookiee says he knows you.”

Solo peered at Kallus and Zeb. “The wookiee’s name is Chewbacca. And if he knows you…” The smuggler’s eyes lit up and he motioned around his head. “Oh yeah! Didn’t recognize you without your fancy strainer.”

“My _what_?” Kallus asked, bewildered.

“Think he means your ISB helmet,” Zeb said. “The one with all the holes on top. We, ah, we made fun of it, too.”

_That helmet kept me safe for many years_ , Kallus wanted to argue. _But that helmet is a symbol of everything we’re fighting against. Let it slide, Alexsandr._

“Yes, nine years ago, on Savareen.” He looked back at the rest of the group, hoping to move on from that embarrassing topic. “Princess, can you go to the Command Center and tell us what happened between Scarif and now?”

The princess motioned to the boy. “Luke needs to come, too. Captain Solo is here for a reward and then he’s leaving.”

Kallus eyed Solo with a bit of distaste. Apparently the smuggler was still in it for himself.

Solo wasn’t bothered, however. “You called me an enemy of the Empire,” he said cheekily, smiling at Kallus. “I remember now.”

Kallus bit his lips. “Yes. Well. Circumstances have changed.”

The wookiee spoke again.

Beside Kallus, Zeb shuffled and his fur stood on end.

Grinning even wider, Solo said, “Chewie says you smell all right, so you must be okay now.”

“That’s not what he said, is it?” Kallus asked Zeb, voice low. “You’re embarrassed about something.”

“It’s close enough,” Zeb said.

“Garazeb…”

“He says you smell like a lasat,” Zeb said after a second.

Kallus sighed. Of course a wookiee would be able to smell Zeb on him. It’d been hours since they last slept together, but neither had had time for sonics or showers since then. “Can we get the plans to Intelligence, please?”

The R2 unit beeped and rolled forward.

“Garazeb,” Kallus said, before the lasat could step away. “I need a favor from you.”

“Sure,” Zeb said. “Whatcha need?”

“Can you find the reactor technicians you brought back from the Jalindi mission? I’d like them looking at these plans, too.” Kallus almost put his hand on Zeb’s arm, but stopped himself. Not in front of so many people. Not in front of Solo and Chewbacca, who already knew more than they needed to.

“Is there anything we can do?”

Kallus glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Coryn and Jaci. They looked upset still, but determined. He assumed they were driving themselves crazy just waiting to hear what would happen. “I suppose the more eyes on these plans, the better,” he said. “Come on.”

Zeb set off through the crowd, looking for his technicians and Kallus led the R2 droid to Intelligence.

“Is it true about Alderaan?” Jaci asked as they walked.

Kallus swallowed. “Yes,” he said soberly. “I’m sure we’ll learn more about what happened, but we did confirm that Alderaan suffered some sort of massive, planet-wide cataclysm. There don’t seem to be any survivors.”

“The people in space around it?” Coryn asked.

“Gone, too, best we can tell, although their transmissions about the Death Star showing up in-system and beginning to fire made it out.”

“Stang,” Coryn said.

Kallus arched an eyebrow at the Corellian’s use of the ubiquitous Alderaanian curse. But in the circumstances, perhaps it was appropriate.

The R2 unit next to him beeped and Kallus eyed it. He’d seen it around base, in Bail Organa’s retinue, and he hadn’t expected a member of a royal senator’s household to be quite so foul-mouthed.

Especially not when delivering such information.

“The droid says it saw the aftermath at Alderaan and that the planet was reduced to space rubble,” Kallus said, translating politely. It was unnecessary, as both Coryn and Jaci spoke Binary, but he was used to translating for Zeb. Somehow, it seemed the right thing to do anyway.

“At least Otto never had to hear about it,” Coryn said slowly. “That would have killed him as surely as the battle did.”

“He talked about home a lot,” Jaci added. “I think he wanted us all to visit there someday.”

The talk of Otto slowed Kallus’s steps. There hadn’t been anything he could have done to save his former roommate, short of having Hera tail him over Scarif, but that didn’t assuage the heavy weight on his heart. 

Everything that came to his mind to say was unintentionally cruel. _I’m sorry you can’t go visit there without him. At least, whatever happened, happened quickly so his family didn’t suffer. Who knows? We may be joining him soon if we don’t find this purported weakness_.

In the Intelligence room, they downloaded the droid’s data onto everyone’s datapads and broke into groups to work. 

Kallus sat with Lyste, still looking at maps while Coryn and Jaci pored over the schematics. At some point, the Jalindi technicians entered. Zeb was not with them.

Kallus was disappointed, but he tried not to let it show. Zeb _had_ said he was needed on the team looking for tracking devices. It was silly of Kallus to expect that Zeb wouldn’t be working on different projects; he _was_ versatile and skilled in many areas.

An hour in, General Draven entered the room and everyone looked up.

The look on his usually-dour face was even more solemn. “Yavin is no longer safe for us,” he said. “A tracking device was found on the _Millennium Falcon_ , the ship that brought us the Death Star plans. We have to assume the Empire is on its way at this very moment.” Draven paused for a moment. “I need the names of the top three most suitable base locations in five minutes and then I need the rest of you working the plans.”

“Shouldn’t we be evacuating, sir?” asked one young Intelligence agent.

Draven shook his head tightly. “No. Others are evacuating what people and equipment we can onto the ships we still have. Our job is to stay here until that weakness is found and exploited. Do not expect breaks. Do not expect to be dismissed for sleep or food. I will arrange for meals to be brought to us. Finding that weakness is more important than any one of us, or all of us.”

Kallus listened to Draven’s speech quietly. He tried not to imagine Zeb’s reaction, but Draven was right. They couldn’t evacuate, they couldn’t quit.

“Those of you who are volunteers and not my subordinates,” Draven said, looking straight at Kallus, “may leave whenever you wish. Your help will make our work go quicker, however, so I would appreciate you staying.”

Kallus looked around his little group of volunteers.

“I’m here until they need pilots,” Coryn said.

“Same,” said Jaci.

Lyste didn’t say anything; he just looked at Kallus, fear in his eyes.

“Then we’re working,” Kallus said. “Yogar, start looking at the reactor plans. I’ll get our base information to Draven.”

While he worked, he pulled out his comlink and hit button to buzz Zeb’s. “Garazeb,” he said quietly. “Where are you?”

Zeb sounded like he was in the middle of something. “Back on snubfighters. Got snagged after we worked the _Falcon_. You okay?” 

“Intelligence is working through the evacuation,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “I want you to promise me you’ll get on the _Ghost_ whether or not I’m there.”

“No.”

“ _Garazeb_. We _will_ find this weakness, but in order for me to do my job, I need to know you’re going to be safe. That Hera and the baby will be safe. You owe it to them to be on that ship.” Invoking the baby was a low blow, Kallus knew, but he was desperate.

Zeb growled and Kallus imagined his ears flattening in anger. “You gonna ask me to give up everything again? No. I’ll come haul you out of there if I have to,” he said. “I said we’d see the other side of this thing and I meant it.”

“Just be on the _Ghost_ ,” Kallus said. “And I promise I will do everything in my power to be there with you.”

“Kallus!” Draven called.

“I love you, Garazeb,” Kallus said quickly before shutting down the comm connection. He followed Draven into the general’s office.

Draven sat, resting his face in his hands for a moment. Kallus stood quietly, waiting. “Kallus,” the general finally said, “These three options for bases: are they any good? Are we going to be flying into a trap?”

“You want my opinion, sir?”

“That’s why I’m asking, isn’t it?” Draven snapped, obviously stressed. “What are your assessments?”

Kallus looked at the top choices: an abandoned space station in the Ash Worlds sector, Spefik, and Beixander. “Neither Spefik nor Beixander are close to shipping lanes, which is good for secrecy,” he said.

“But not so good for missions or acquiring supplies,” Draven finished.

“Right. At the moment, the Mako-Ta shipyards are reportedly shut down, but I think our technicians and mechanics could get it up and running again. It’s close to the Lothal sector, though, which could be good or could make it a target, but also close to Mon Cala.”

“Who are stable allies and good shipbuilders to restore our fleet.” Draven sighed. “Will the Empire guess where we are?”

Kallus shrugged. “I can’t say, sir. I know that if I was still in the ISB, I would consider the Mon Cala sector, but I also would have attempted to retake Lothal by now. The Empire isn’t reacting how I would have guessed. If we have a victory here… there’s no telling.”

“ _If_ we have a victory.” Draven scrolled through the data on the potential bases. “Fine. I’ll take this to the Council.”

“Sir?” Kallus couldn’t help but be curious. “What did you learn from the princess?”

“The Death Star is real and she watched it destroy Alderaan as punishment for her not telling where our base is.” Draven set down his datapad. “The boy comes from Tatooine where the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi was apparently hiding. Kenobi, the boy, and Solo staged a rescue of the princess, but Kenobi died during the escape. There’s an insinuation the boy is Force-sensitive.”

Kallus slumped a little. “More Jedi,” he said, uncertainty tinging his voice. If only Kanan and Ezra were still around, this boy might train with them. As it was, what good were Force abilities if the boy had no one to instruct him?

“Indeed.” Draven seemed to share Kallus’s opinions. “The one saving grace is that this Skywalker seems to be a skilled pilot. He’s in simulators for X-wings right now.”

Frowning, Kallus asked, “Skywalker?” He’d heard that name before, when he was young on Coruscant. Back during the Clone Wars, a Jedi named Skywalker had been lauded for piloting skills, too.

“No relation to the Clone Wars hero, as far as I know,” Draven said. “Now, I need you to leave.”

“I’m sorry?” Kallus wasn’t aware of anything he did wrong.

“General Syndulla threatened me quite thoroughly if I didn’t release you to her for the evacuation effort.” Draven arched his eyebrows. “Seems to think you’re an essential part of her crew now.”

Kallus could picture Hera telling off Draven far too well. “If you want me to stay, sir, I’ll talk to her.”

“No, the room is crowded enough as it is. Go.” Draven waved at him, dismissing him.

“Yes, sir.” Kallus nodded. Aware it might be the last time he saw Draven, he struggled to think of what to say. “May, uh, may the Force be with you.”

“May it be with us all,” Draven said.

Kallus snuck out of the Intelligence office before Draven could change his mind. He jogged through the crowded halls, dodging groups of people and bits of equipment on repulsorlifts. Out on the landing field, the sun shined brilliantly, as if it were just a normal day.

He’d have loved to find Zeb and head off into the jungle for a picnic and maybe – Kallus was still working up his nerve to ask – see if Zeb would let him practice with the bo-rifle. It’d been so long since Kallus wielded one and he missed the heft of the weapon in his hands.

It wasn’t to be, however. The day was ominous, not beautiful. The clear skies would simply give them a better view of the massive space station when it arrived in-system.

“Hera!” he called when he got to the _Ghost_. “Where are you?”

Chopper rolled up to the platform above the hold and warbled at Kallus.

“Waiting on the tooka-man?” Kallus rolled his eyes. “Chopper, his name is _Zeb_.”

Chopper blatted rudely.

“I’ll wait here,” Kallus agreed. “But it would be nice if you would tell me where Hera is and what she needs.”

The droid waved his manipulators as he spoke.

“What’d he say?” Zeb said, walking up behind Kallus and resting a large hand on Kallus’s lower back.

“That Hera wants us to prep the ship for evacuees. We’re taking on people, not equipment.”

“Hera’s got some pull,” Zeb said. “They’re calling in all the pilots for a briefing and the mechanics are on double-time fixing the damage from Scarif.”

“If the pilots are getting a briefing, Intelligence must have found something,” Kallus said. “There might be a weakness after all.”

“Either way, we’d better get to work,” Zeb said, tightening the straps on his hands. 

For the next hour, they cleared every surface in the _Ghost_ , pulled out every bit of extra seating that was in storage, and bolted that down. Chopper ‘helped’ by pointing out areas they missed.

Just as they finished, sweating and exhausted, Hera showed up. Rex was with her, as were a large group of people seeking refuge.

Among them was Jaci. Zeb motioned for her to come up and join them.

Hera stood next to Chopper and Zeb on the platform while Kallus and Jaci stood off to the side.

“All right, people,” Hera said. “The Death Star is in the system. We’ve got fifteen minutes before it clears Yavin. Get in, hold on to whatever you can, and let’s get off this moon.”

Kallus met Zeb’s gaze, both men’s eyes wide in anxious anticipation. 

“Chop, close up as soon as everyone is on board. And I mean _everyone_ ; don’t leave anyone behind. Kallus, Zeb, Rex, come with me.” Without waiting to see if her instructions were followed, Hera made her way to the cockpit.

“Come on,” Zeb said, gesturing to Rex, Kallus, and Jaci.

The four of them found places in the cockpit, Kallus taking the copilot’s chair – he might be the newest crew member, but he was the next best passenger ship pilot there after Hera.

Looking up, he saw the faint, grey shape of the Death Star peeking out from behind the Yavin gas giant. He exchanged a glance with Hera and immediately started up the repulsorlifts. 

“Chop, how we doing?” Hera called over the intercom.

Chopper answered by butting his way into the cockpit.

“Okay, everyone’s in and we’re closed up. Chop, plot us microjumps around the system to the coreward edge. We’re waiting out of sight to see what happens.”

That made sense, Kallus thought. They could jump out of the system quickly from that position or they could return to Yavin easily if – _if_ – they were victorious.

Hera took the controls and they lifted off the ground. As soon as they were clear of the base, Hera put the _Ghost_ on full speed out of the moon’s atmosphere and into space.

Zeb fiddled with the comm system, dialing in to the general Rebel frequency so the whole ship could listen to the battle, even if they couldn’t see it.

As they made their way to the far side of the Yavin system, Kallus couldn’t help but ask, “Did the Council decide on a new base?”

“Yes,” she said. “Mako-Ta. We radioed Cracken’s cell in the Outer Rim to go there first and start getting it prepared for our arrival.”

Kallus nodded. The old shipyards ought to serve them well as long as they went undiscovered.

Which was a big _if_.

Over the comm, hails from the snubfighter squadrons started coming in as they approached the Death Star.

Kallus listened closely for Gold Ten, Coryn. When he commed in for roll call, Kallus had to work hard not to turn around and check on Jaci.

There were already ships waiting for them at the rendezvous point. Hera tucked the _Ghost_ in the middle of the group, turned around and waiting to see what happened.

From that distance and with the Yavin star between them and the Death Star, there was nothing to see. At best, Yavin Prime would be a slightly brighter speck of light.

That didn’t stop them from watching anyway.

“ _We’re starting our attack run_ ,” said Gold Leader, Dutch Vander.

Synthleather squeaked behind Kallus’s head as Jaci gripped the seat back tightly. Kallus couldn’t blame her.

They listened and watched the tiny dots on the scanner that represented the snubfighters.

It was a slaughter. Even with the Red Squadron X-wings to attract fire and distract the Death Star gunners, the Gold Squadron Y-wings were picked off one by one.

When Gold Ten went quiet mid-sentence, his dot blipping out, Kallus turned just enough to see Zeb pull Jaci into a hug. She wasn’t crying – that would probably come later – but right then she was more in danger of shock.

Hera glanced back, too, a sorrowful expression on her face. She knew better than to say anything, however, and just nodded at Zeb.

The battle continued and as Kallus sat helplessly on the _Ghost_ , more and more snubfighters were shot down.

Kallus wished he could be holding Zeb. He hadn’t gotten to know a lot of the pilots, but Zeb had, and his partner had to be hurting.

But Zeb needed to be a rock for Jaci and Kallus needed to let him. There would be time for their own mourning later.

Or there wouldn’t be, because they’d all be dead.

Either way, it didn’t matter at the moment.

Kallus watched the snubfighters’ signals drop out one by one until there were three left. He was a little gratified to see that one of the survivors was Wedge. He’d turned out to be a skilled pilot after Kallus helped get him out of Skystrike Academy, and Kallus hoped he would make it.

Wedge’s dot peeled off from the others – he’d taken a direct hit but survived.

That just left two fighters. Just two, both new pilots, both Outer Rim boys. Darklighter, a defector who’d brought a good portion of the _Rand Ecliptic_ ’s crew with him, and Skywalker, the kid who’d flown in with Solo.

The kid who might be a Jedi.

Another dot blipped out: Darklighter.

Kallus didn’t look around. They were down to one fighter and with the exception of the few pilots who’d been on standby or in the medbay, every single pilot Hera had worked with was now dead. Here or Scarif, it didn’t matter; they were still gone.

If Hera Syndulla was close to breaking down again, Kallus didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want her to have an audience.

A new dot appeared on the scanner – to Kallus’s surprise, it was the _Millennium Falcon_ , swooping in to join the fight.

Solo hadn’t gotten his money and left, after all.

Huh.

“ _You’re all clear, kid! Now let’s blow this thing and go home!_ ”

It seemed to take an eternity, but the very large signal that was the Death Star blinked out on the scanner, leaving just four ships: the _Falcon_ , Skywalker, Wedge, and the lone survivor of Gold Squadron, Verlaine.

Four – no, really, three. Solo didn’t count – survivors. Just three after they threw everything they had at the Death Star.

Kallus realized that he’d been holding his breath and gulped for air, leaning forward against the control panel to steady himself.

They could hear cheers coming from the hold and the hallways, but no one in the cockpit joined in.

Rex placed a hand on Hera’s shoulder and squeezed. Tears had started streaming down Jaci’s face and she turned to bury her face in Zeb’s chest. Kallus reached out, his hand meeting Zeb’s halfway, and held on tightly. He’d have liked to be where Jaci was, but he hadn’t lost both his lovers in the last forty-eight hours.

Hera took a deep, steadying breath and signaled to the Fleet that they should return to Yavin.

The intricate course Chopper plotted took them way around the Yavin star. Thirty minutes later, they landed back on Yavin IV.

Hera opened the hold and their passengers all ran out and joined the cheering masses gathering in the main temple.

Kallus didn’t join them. He wrapped one arm around Zeb’s waist and the other around Jaci’s shoulders. Zeb pulled Hera into a hug and even Rex tried to comfort Jaci.

The Rebels had achieved the impossible. They’d destroyed a planet-killer.

But at what cost?


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we close out, check out some [wonderful artwork](https://twitter.com/birdlets_/status/1332522199224254464) by vintaged from various points in the story! <3

The sky above Yavin IV was full of Death Star debris, most of which was being pulled into the gas giant. Thankfully; the last thing the Rebels needed was a rain of shrapnel while they tried to deal with the aftermath of such a devastating battle.

Zeb couldn’t help but be reminded of Lothal, a month and a half before. The sight of debris burning up was familiar, as was the hollow feeling inside whenever he thought about all they’d sacrificed in both places to achieve victory.

Kallus walked up, looking just as tired as Zeb felt.

“Jaci all right?” he asked, then mentally kicked himself. Of _course_ she wasn’t all right. But she was a survivor, he thought. She’d pull through.

“I handed her over to her roommates,” Kallus said blankly. “I stopped by the medbay, too, to tell Zaarin what happened. Saw Wedge visiting his friends that were grounded while I was there.”

“Good.” And it _was_ good, Zeb thought. They’d lost a lot, but not everything. Not everyone. There was still enough for the Rebellion to keep going. “Hera told me they’re throwing a big ceremony. Medals for Skywalker and Solo, memorials for everyone else.”

Kallus wrinkled his nose. “Is attendance required?”

“Officially, yes.” Zeb picked up one of Kallus’s hands. “Unofficially, Hera told me to make sure we both got some sleep. We’ll have work later, when we actually evacuate.”

“Sleep?” Kallus asked. “I’m too tired to actually sleep.”

Zeb laughed. “Been there before, love. Come on, let’s go try and see what we can do about it.”

The _Ghost_ was empty when they got there. Even Chopper was elsewhere, which was a bit suspicious but Zeb wasn’t going to question small miracles.

He’d been exhausted, physically and mentally, standing out in the landing field, but as soon as he stepped into their cabin, some of that exhaustion went away. Lying on the bed sounded nice, but sleeping? He wasn’t sure it was going to happen.

Apparently Kallus didn’t think it was going to happen either, because he started taking off Zeb’s armor – a sure sign he hoped for more than just sleep.

“Alex?” he asked, taking off his vambraces. “You sure you want–”

“Yes,” Kallus said, running fingers through the fur on Zeb’s arms. “Two days ago, I essentially proposed to you and you accepted. Since then, we’ve been through two battles. We’ve worked through the nights. We’ve faced mortality.”

Zeb snorted, unzipping his jumpsuit. “‘Faced mortality’? That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“No,” Kallus said, hastily yanking off his own clothes. “I think it’s what happened. We’ve lost more people and more allies, but we survived.”

“We did,” Zeb agreed, moving to run his hands down Kallus’s bare sides, wrapping his hands entirely around the human’s waist.

“We survived. Both of us. Doesn’t that make you want to–?”

“To kriff you senseless?” Zeb leaned in for a kiss. “I think I could do that.”

Kallus slipped his arms around Zeb’s neck, kissing him firmly and deeply. Zeb let him lead, still caught up in the newness of it all. Without breaking the kiss, Kallus walked him back to the bed.

He pushed Zeb down and climbed onto the bed, straddling Zeb. It was hard to miss Kallus getting aroused; the sight sent a thrill through Zeb, his body awakening as well.

Kallus leaned down, elbows on either side of Zeb’s head and rosy blond hair falling in his face. “You promised me we’d see the other side of this. You promised me a future with you. I want that, Garazeb, more than anything.”

Zeb ran his hands up and down Kallus’s back, gently using his claws to dig into the meat of Kallus’s rather shapely ass. “We’re gonna have it. We’re gonna make it and then we’re gonna find some place where the next war won’t touch us.” He thought of Lira San, quiet and secluded. Hidden, really. They’d find peace there, if Kallus wanted to go. “Kriff the rest of the galaxy. They can fight without us.”

Kallus shuffled down Zeb’s body until he was in the right position to stroke Zeb’s slit, Kallus’s nimble fingers making Zeb writhe in pleasure. When Kallus bent and let his tongue take over, it was almost better than Kallus’s attempts at blowing Zeb.

Almost.

Kallus skillfully coaxed Zeb’s cock out of his slit, already hard and dripping with slick.

“If you asked me to, I’d leave with you now,” Kallus admitted, pulling back just enough to talk. The feel of his breath on Zeb’s cock was tantalizing. “But we both know we’re going to see out _this_ war.” 

“ _Karabast_ , Alex, stop talking and _touch me_ ,” Zeb growled, a purr starting up deep in his chest.

Kallus grinned slyly and licked Zeb from slit to tip, taking care to circle the nubs as he went.

“Kriff, Alexsandr,” Zeb gasped, gripping the bedsheet. 

Kallus answered by taking Zeb’s head in his mouth, swirling his tongue there, too.

Zeb gasped for breath, shaking and needy already. “Al– Alex, stop. I want to be inside you.”

Kallus pulled off his cock and gave his inner thigh a kiss. “I need you inside me,” he agreed. “Do you want to watch?”

Did Zeb want to watch Kallus take his time preparing and stretching his hole or did he want Kallus to do it more quickly and efficiently?

“I do,” Zeb said.

Kallus resituated himself, legs spread to give Zeb the best view, and slicked up his fingers, garnering another gasp from Zeb.

“I’m so tight,” Kallus said as he worked. “But you’re going to fix that. I’m going to be loose and ruined because of you.”

Zeb couldn’t look away. “Kriff, I love you, Alex,” he said. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Kallus knew Zeb found him attractive. Kallus knew Zeb liked his toned musculature and sharp features.

But Kallus didn’t know Zeb loved every single scar, too. Loved every sign that his partner was a survivor and a warrior. Kallus didn’t know Zeb loved the slight buildup of padding on his stomach and hips he’d gotten from a steady Rebel diet. Kallus didn’t know how Zeb loved those freckles that covered nearly every inch of his body and how easily his fair skin turned red when he was embarrassed or angry or even just very aroused.

That was happening now, a flush spreading across Kallus’s cheeks as Zeb stared at him.

“Garazeb…” Kallus said softly, pausing in his efforts. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like I love you?” Zeb asked.

“Like I’m worthy of you.”

Zeb growled again. “Alexsandr, you need to stop thinking of yourself as lesser.” He sat up and leaned forward to capture Kallus in another kiss. “You’re my partner. You’re my equal. I wouldn’t have kissed you if you weren’t. You are _perfect_.”

Kallus didn’t seem to have an answer, jaw going slack. “I’m not,” he said.

“Don’t tell me about your scars,” Zeb said, taking the time to slick up his own finger. He took over for Kallus, being careful to keep his claw sheathed. 

Kallus moaned in pleasure, reaching out to hold onto Zeb’s shoulders. His whole body trembled as Zeb curled his finger just so, brushing up against the human’s prostate. “I’m not talking about my scars,” he choked out as he could. “I’m better than I was, but I won’t ever be perfect, Garazeb. My past will always taint me.”

Zeb had some _thoughts_ about where Kallus could stuff his past – mostly up the Emperor’s ass – but he focused instead on the job at hand: getting Kallus ready.

They had raised the second bunk as high as it would go, giving Zeb the room to sit on his knees. He did so, pulling Kallus up to him, the man’s legs wrapped around Zeb’s waist.

“Ready?” Zeb checked.

Kallus nodded.

Zeb pressed in slowly, giving Kallus time to adjust.

Kallus seemed lost to pleasure already, eyes rolling up and breathing shakily. Zeb couldn’t help but be a little proud that he could reduce the strong Kallus to a quivering mess so easily.

“Garazeb!” Kallus cried as he pushed in further, Zeb’s name something wanton and sensual in Kallus’s mouth. He scrabbled at the bed, finally finding purchase holding onto Zeb’s knees.

“I love you,” Zeb repeated as he began to move, thrusting forward far enough to make Kallus cry out again. Every stroke he made, he told Kallus another truth. “I hated you when we met. You changed, though. You tried to do good. You _did_ good. You apologized. You became my friend. You became someone I loved. And I loved you easily. You’re so much better than you think.”

“No,” Kallus said, sounding halfway to tears, though that might have been the pace Zeb ended up setting: slow and languid and loving. Zeb was trying to make sure Kallus lasted as long as possible. “No, I’m not.”

“ _Yes_ , you are,” Zeb argued. “You’re not Agent Kallus anymore. You’re Alex. You care about others. You help others. You don’t ask for praise, but Alex, I want to praise you.”

“Garazeb,” Kallus said and this time Zeb saw the tears leaking out. “You took me in, made me what I am. Following you into that escape pod was the best decision I ever made.”

“Nah,” Zeb said, kissing Kallus’s chest, teasing his nipples. “That happened after, when you decided to question things.”

“I know what you’ve given me,” Kallus said, head pressed back into the bed. “But what do you get from me? I’ve never known.”

Zeb was quiet a moment, focusing on not coming just yet, stretching things out. “Alex, you’re the first person in a long time who looked at me and saw more than just a brute. Some people treated me like a talkin’ animal; you treated me as an equal from the beginning. You’re the only one who can come close to understandin’ what my life has been. You make me want to be better so that I can give you everything you deserve.”

“No,” Kallus said.

“Yes,” Zeb corrected. “I usedta be reckless, figurin’ that I’d die fightin’, but now I see a future for me. One with you in it. I want us to get there. We’ve earned it, both of us.”

“Garazeb,” Kallus moaned again, “touch me.”

Zeb grinned. He resituated himself so he held Kallus’s hips with one hand and his dick with the other. Gently, he caressed the other man, letting his fur do most of the work.

Kallus keened, writhing on the bed at the double attack of pleasure. He tried to talk, but only nonsense syllables came out.

“You’re so good, Alex,” Zeb said. “You can come now.”

As if he’d simply been waiting for permission, Kallus came, spilling into Zeb’s palm. His cry of Zeb’s name echoed in the small room.

If Zeb hadn’t been as close to climax as he was, he might have been glad they were alone on the ship. As it was, his hips jerked erratically as the sensations began building, becoming more and more intense until all of a sudden, he tipped over the edge, coming _hard_ inside Kallus.

It was enough that Zeb’s limbs went limp and he collapsed next to Kallus after he pulled out, aware he was leaving the human lying in a sticky mess.

Kallus rolled onto his side and began tracing Zeb’s stripes with fingers that still held a little tremor. “Did you mean all that?”

Zeb closed his eyes, trying to breathe evenly once more. “Every word,” he swore. “I love you, Alex, and not just because you’re pretty.”

Kallus settled in, head on Zeb’s chest, one hand tapping lightly in time with Zeb’s heartbeat. “I love _you_ , Garazeb, and not just because _you’re_ pretty.”

Zeb grinned. “See? No one else would tell me that and mean it. You’re special.”

Humming a pleased note, Kallus closed his eyes and Zeb wrapped long arms around him. The embrace drew a sigh from the human.

Perhaps it was just a post-coital thing, but Zeb finally felt tired enough to sleep. He let himself drift off knowing that Kallus would be there when he woke up. Knowing that together, they’d face whatever came next.

He fell asleep still purring.

“Remind you of Atollon?” Rex asked, passing along a crate to be loaded onto the _Ghost_.

Zeb shook his head, but laughed. “I hope not. I don’t want to be chased out of the system by Imperials again.”

Rex shrugged. “Well, at least the people are gone.”

Zeb had to agree. The first waves of evacuees had gone on ahead to Mako-Ta Station: people first, then equipment. They were loading up the _Ghost_ with the last of the equipment now, getting ready to leave Yavin IV for good.

He and Rex were doing the heavy lifting while Hera and Kallus were sifting through the things being left behind, making sure they weren’t accidentally leading the Imperials straight to their new base or to their allies and suppliers. All around them, other ships and shuttles were loading up as well.

It was a little bittersweet to be leaving Massassi Base, Zeb felt. They’d been there over a year and, even with their time back on Lothal, Yavin IV had started to feel like home. He’d set foot on the moon with the full Spectre crew and a just-been-tortured Kallus. He was leaving with a new crew and a life partner in Kallus.

How things changed.

One crate at a time, Zeb and Rex loaded up the hold, stacking the crates high and leaving paths just wide enough to squeeze through to the controls and the ladder. Chopper rolled around the hold, inspecting their work.

Brushing his hands off on his pants, Rex stepped back and looked at their work. “I think that’s everything,” he said.

Zeb glanced around; the other ships were finishing loading, as well, and Hera and Kallus were making their way across the landing field. “Let’s just hope they hold during flight.”

“Don’t tell me you doubt Hera’s flying abilities,” Rex said with a grin.

“He’d better not,” Hera said, voice carrying across the tarmac. She grinned. “I’ll have to throw him out the airlock.”

Chopper tootled happily and Zeb shot him a look.

“Ah, but then you’d have the other one sulking,” Rex pointed out.

“‘The other one’?” Kallus asked. “Is that what I am?”

“You could be, uh, Spectre 4 ½,” Zeb suggested.

Hera shook her head, smiling. “I think we’ll stick with ‘Fulcrum’ unless you actually object.”

Zeb clapped Kallus on the shoulder and pulled him close. “I’m gonna call you ‘mine’,” he whispered in Kallus’s ear.

The human flushed pink. “Garazeb, must we in public?”

“We’re hardly public,” Hera said. “Thought we were more like family.”

Warmth flooded through Zeb at Hera’s words. Their family had changed a lot in the last year or so, but it was still a family.

And Kallus was part of it. _No way he’s gettin’ rid of me now_ , Zeb thought smugly.

To prove the point, Zeb kissed Kallus on the temple. “We’re family,” he agreed. 

Kallus shifted on his feet, but he nodded. “Thank you for taking me in,” he said quietly. “At Atollon, here on Yavin, letting me back in on Lothal… None of you owed me anything.”

Hera shook her head. “You earned your spot.” She glanced at Zeb and continued, “And I bet Zeb will be glad to set you straight.”

Gesturing to Rex, the two boarded the _Ghost_ , Chopper trailing behind, leaving Zeb and Kallus alone.

Zeb let his hand run down Kallus’s arm, entwining their fingers. He looked around the emptying base. “Lots of memories here,” he mused.

“Some not so good,” Kallus said.

Zeb shrugged one shoulder. “I was thinking more along the lines of all the places we kriffed. Some of those were really good.”

“ _Garazeb_ ,” sighed Kallus, sounding put-upon. He turned, leaning his forehead against Zeb’s, eyes closed. “I love you but sometimes you’re insufferable.”

“But you _do_ love me,” Zeb said cheekily.

Kallus smiled softly. “That I do.” He tilted his face up and met Zeb in a kiss while he slid his hands around to cup the back of Zeb’s head.

Zeb melted into the kiss, mind awhirl with all the promises such a kiss carried. When they broke for air, he said, “I told you there’d be a place for us after all this.”

“You did,” Kallus said.

“I meant it. I know where I want to take you. It’s where we’ve taken the other lasats. If you want to know, I’ll tell you all about it.” Zeb searched Kallus’s eyes for any sign of displeasure.

Kallus just shook his head. “It’s still safer if I don’t know. How about you surprise me when this is all over? If you say we’ll be happy there, I trust you.”

Zeb kissed him once more. “I say so.”

“Boys, are you coming?” Hera called from inside the ship.

Zeb grabbed Kallus’s hand again and tugged, leading him to the ship.

Kallus didn’t follow easily, though, digging in his heels a bit.

“C’mon, Kal, we gotta go,” Zeb said. “Are you gonna come with me or not?”

“I am,” Kallus said softly. “Wherever you’re going, so am I.”

Together, they stepped onto the _Ghost_ , leaving Yavin IV behind them forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through nearly 150k words and 27 chapters! It’s been an emotional journey on my end, as silly as that may sound, but I’ve been so gratified to see all your comments and kudos along the way.
> 
> You’ve seen me advertising my tumblr in the endnotes, but I also invite you to check me out on twitter: [@fandomhixystix](https://twitter.com/fandomhixystix). I occasionally natter on about writing and Rebels there. Please don’t hesitate to say hey if you want!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr and flail over Rebels and Kalluzeb! [hixystix](https://hixystix.tumblr.com/) is my main blog, and [x-wing-junkie](https://x-wing-junkie.tumblr.com/) is my _Star Wars_ blog. New friends always welcome!


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